The Art Of Suicide
by Ophelia'song
Summary: After years of holding back her emotions and keeping herself locked up inside herself, Raven has finally reached her breaking point. After swallowing an entire bottle of sleeping pills, Robin tries desperately to save her from herself. Can Robin be her knight in shining armor or will Raven just become a causality of her own doing?
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Alright this is my first fanfic, so I'm really excited. I would also like to thank you for just clicking on this story so I hope you enjoy it. I'm not really sure where this story is going to take me, but I can't wait to find out. I'm writing this story as a way to release my thoughts and ideas and if you are uncomfortable with the content then please read this next part carefully. I do not condone or encourage suicide in any way shape for form. That said I am not recommending nor am I condoning anything in anyway. Anyone who is contemplating suicide should get professional help or talk to someone. This story is going to cover the a lot of sensitive issues, I'm not in anyway trying to glamorize the subject, I'm just trying to look at it from all the different points of views. Please review I would really appreciate feedback. Anything constructive is more than welcome, I'm trying to improve my grammar and the only way that can happen is with your help. Just One more thing I do not own Teen titans or the song Asleep by the smiths.**_

_**With love**_

_**-Ophealia'song**_

**Chapter 1**

**Asleep**

_Sing me to sleep,_

_Sing me to sleep,_

_I'm tired and I want to go to bed_

_Sing me to sleep,_

_Sing me to sleep,_

_And then leave me alone_

_Don't try to wake me in the morning_

_Cause I will be gone_

_Don't feel bad for me_

_I want you to know_

_Deep in the cell of my heart_

_I will feel so glad to go_

_-The Smiths_

It was final, it was finally done; the long lasting pain was subsiding and the heaviness was lifting from her body with every shallow breath that threatened to be her last. As she began to slip away, the thought of how this all came to be ran through her mind. She never thought she would spend her last moments alone, on a cold, fifthly bathroom floor; nor did she think that her death would be dealt by her own hand. Raven's mind began to slip into another world as her fears and bonds began to dissolves. She soon found herself looking down at the girl with the violet hair, who lay lifeless beneath her. Her pale skin was losing the very little color it had and her attachment the world loosened even more. _Its better this way,_ Raven thought as her soul-self began to drift even further. Though she couldn't help, but look at the empty bottle of sleeping pills that lay empty on the sink, after it had purged the very life from the soon to be dead girl that lay before it.

Through all this, Raven could not help, but feel a light air of freedom, a small aura of peace. She would soon be free of her father and all the darkness in the world; she would be free of the world itself. In the back of her mind she knew her friends would be devastated and she knew that they would never understand why she had done such a thing, but the truth is, she wanted to go. The pain of living had become unbearable. No one knew how hard it was being an empath, especially being an empathy who could not indulge in emotion, the very thing she should thrive on. This basic human instinct was cut from her as a child and she knew this was the reason she hurt so much. No one could have imagined how numb she was and how desperately she wanted to feel something, other than the hate that burned for her father. No one could understand how hopeless she felt or the secrets she kept hidden under her skin, but now she would be free, no longer having to watch others feel and selfishly dwell in their emotions. Nor did she have to constantly control herself to keep her friends safe or fight for her sanity any longer; though it was safe to say that in the eyes of the law she had lost her mind. She knew she had committed a crime against herself and that this was technically considered murder to most, but she thought due to the circumstances, that she had every right to end her own life, even if her friends would disagree. _Thank god their not here, _she thought knowing the others weren't home. Or at least they weren't supposed to be.

Raven soon heard a knock at the door, though the sound was unwelcome and distorted. She could hear a familiar voice say, "Raven I need to talk to you." It was none other than Robin, and as much as she cared for him, even more so than any of the other Titans, he was the last person she wanted to hear right now. "Raven please, I know you want nothing to do with me right now, but I can't leave it like this. Please Raven, please just talk to me." The boy said in a low, defeated voice that hinted desperation.

Raven knew it wouldn't be long before he kicked down the door and found her lifeless body. She also knew he would blame himself until the day he died, but for some reason she didn't care. She knew exactly what he would say to her if he knew she wanted to die; he would tell her she had so much to give, that her life was worth living, and that the world needed her, (or more importantly,) that he needed her. _Well fuck them,_ She thought, _how selfish of them for not understanding that I needed this, that this is what's best_, that she would no longer suffer with her disturbed darkness, that crept into her thoughts at night and shaped her dreams into the works of nightmares.

"Raven, are you alright? Raven!" He screamed from outside the door, that was acting as the barrier between life and death. The calls of desperation were soon followed by a loud pounding. She knew he would break through that barrier at any moment on his white horse, ready to save her from herself like he always had, but this time she prayed he would be too late. This time, she didn't want to be saved, because she couldn't be saved. Robin continued to yell as he began to kick down the door. Raven however began to fade even more so, the little life she had lift was almost gone and for a moment the world went silent. Only the light sound of running water could be heard in the distance, as she found herself in a peaceful atmosphere, which filled her with a sense of calm. Something she hadn't felt even as a small child. It was then Raven pulled herself up to see the open space around her, solidifying the loss of her confines. The sky was wide and clear as she looked up to it in aw. She then looked over to the source of the sound of rushing water, that called to her from a slight distance before her. There was something about it that she could not ignore as she found herself moving toward what appeared to be a long brook.

Once Raven found herself at the edge of the water front, she looked down at the reflection it cast of a girl who looked back at her with a heavy mask of deception. She knew that if she was to remove it she would have to return to the water, the very origin of life. With a deep breath she closed her eyes and took a step forward and placed one foot into the brook, then followed with the second foot. She soon found herself becoming consumed by cool liquid as she began to sink fast into the depths of its purity.

_I'm waking up, _a voice echoed in her head, as she realized her sinking was not of a Shakespearian tragedy, but an unfortunate miracle. She felt herself being pulled back to her body and away from the peace she had for only a brief moment. She once again found herself looking down at the violet haired girl, who now lay in the Boy Wonder's arms as the bath tub filled with cold water. Robin had in his hand the empty bottle of Trazodone she had taken and was franticly reading the fine print, which stated in the event of an overdose to induce vomiting. He then clumsily got out of the tub and moved toward sink where the medicine cabinet waited with ominous patience and pulled out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. With the bottle in hand, he rushed over to the lifeless girl who lay limp in the bath tub and began to pour the peroxide down her throat. Raven found herself being pulled even further back into her cage as she began to feel the burn of the peroxide, which flowed down her throat, causing a sickening feeling deep in her stomach. A few moments later, her mouth filled with the fowl taste of vomit and her soul-self was becoming bound to its physical form once more.

Robin pulled out his communicator and called for anyone who would listen, while Raven's body forcefully purged the poison from her. Tears began to fill her eyes as she began to become more awake and aware that here attempt at freedom had failed.

"Richard," She said in a weak voice that cracked under the effort it took to speak.

Robin then turned his head in her direction, his eye filled with a mix of emotions that radiated off him like smoke. "Yes, Raven I'm here, I'm going to get you help."

"Richard I don't want help, I just want to go back to sleep." She said releasing tears that began to run down her face in furry.

Robin's heart then immediately broke in half after hearing those words. To know that one of his closest friends wished for a tragic ending, made him feel helpless, something he hadn't felt since the day his parents died. And once again, he felt that he was losing them all over again, he was once again that little boy who could do nothing, but watch and only hope for God to not turn away this time.

"Raven you can't go back to sleep, not now, please not now." He pleaded hoping that maybe something in his voice could convince her to hold on or at least consider it.

For Robin the world was standing still once more and time remained frozen. It was clear that they had reached the edge, but what was not clear was whether they would both come back from it. It scarred him to think that she was just out of his reach as she was so close, but so far away. He could only stand by and watch her drown, though he wondered if he had been all along.


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: I know it's short, but I figured it would keep you all reading while I go away this week. I hope you all enjoy this chapter please review and let me know what yo guys think. And happy 4th:)_**

**Chapter 2**

**Why**

_The art of suicide_

_Nightgowns and hair_

_Curls flying every which where_

_The pain too pure to hide_

_Bridges of sighs_

_Meant to conceal lover's lies_

_Under the arches of moonlight and sky_

_Suddenly easy to contemplate why_

_Why…_

_-Emilie Autumn_

The world seemed quiet for the first time in the two weeks since Raven committed what Robin could only conceive as the ultimate sin against one's self. Yet he found himself trying in great length to understand such an unconceivable thing. He was taught a very long time ago that life was a precious thing and that no matter the person and or circumstance it was not to be taken, even by ones on hand. Still as he walked through the somber graveyard he felt a rush of thoughts and emotions that crawled wildly beneath his skin. He couldn't grasp the act, and he certainly did not condone it, no matter what reasons she had or what threat she thought she posed. Still he couldn't help mourn her, though his anger screamed loudly at her selfishness, that she thought she could just leave them. This all made him sick with a thriving sadness that fed off him like parasite.

_How could she do this, _he thought to himself while walking the long path way that led him deeper into the graveyard, _I mean was life really that bad? Why didn't she just talk to me? I mean God, did she even try? _Robin felt his anger boil at the thought that she felt she couldn't confide in _him_, of all people. They were in all rights best friends, weren't they? He wanted to help her; he wanted her to tell him why she hurt or why she didn't.

Once he reached the end of the path, Robin's knees grow weak and almost buckled beneath him. He knew full well what awaited him only twenty or so feet away. This provoked a consuming fear he hadn't felt in years; the fear of loss. The anxiety was so great that he teetered on the edge of tuning back. He knew why he came here, to try to help him understand, though it was unclear whether it was to understand life or death.

_Come on Grayson this is no time to get cold feet. _He thought pushing himself forward in the direction of the head stone which stood just a stone's throw away. Yet every step he took felt like a lifetime of steps, all headed in the same direction, one which he could deny. As these steps brought him closer to his destination he could feel his eyes burn hot with tears, though he tried hard to contain them behind the he mask he wore. This was a stoic facial expression that was not hindered by any trace of fabric; he knew it would be a disservice to face them with his typical mask of mystery. Instead he wore his real face, because today he was Richard Grayson, the boy who lost his parents for what felt like a lifetime ago.

_"John & Mary Grayson,"_ bared itself in carved letters on the old stone face, which was meant to remember the dead, but in truth he felt that in some ways he had forgotten them. He had not visited the lonely grave in years; not since he was a small boy and Bruce would take him there on a regular basis. Only after the third or fourth visit he told Bruce he no longer wanted to go, as it was too painful to remember them at a grave site. It reminded him that in some ways he was alone and that scarred him even more than one could imagine. He knew he had Bruce and Alfred, but the thought that he could lose them just as easily, only bread the same deep seeded fear he felt now. This was the kind of fear that gave him nightmares of the past and brought on sleepless nights. This was the same fear that was present in his mind when he saw Raven dying on the bathroom floor.

"So you finally decided to remember?" A deep voice said causing Robin to raise his brow in surprise. He then turned to find non-other than the Dark Knight himself standing behind him. Dressed in a long dress coat with flowers in hand.

"What are you doing here?" Robin asked a little dumbfounded at the sight of his adoptive father. He hadn't seen him in years and to find him at of all places the grave site of his parents provoked all sorts of questions.

"I come here every so often," Bruce answered with a shrug.

"But why?" Robin said with curiosity.

"Because someone had to remember them." Bruce said simply, though the words left a sting in his heart.

"I remember them." Robin responded with a bitter resentment he couldn't hold back.

"Richard that's not what I meant, I know you do, but I also know that you tried very hard to forget what happened to them." Bruce said placing the flowers gently against the weathered stone. "I know that's why you asked me to stop bringing you here. You just wanted to forget that they died."

Bruce then turned to face the young man who he thought of as a son and placed his right hand on Robin's left shoulder and said with a regretful honestly, "I'm sorry to hear about your friend."

Robin then felt the front he had been hold up for the past two weeks fall and shatter into scattered fragments that pieced together the lie he had been telling himself for far too long. As tears began to fall in streams of disarray he looked at Bruce with a look of defeat in his eyes.

"I'm sorry." Robin said with shame.

"Richard it's alright to cry." Bruce said breaking his own front, though it was only a crack.

"You always told me not too." Robin replied looking away, trying his hardest not to fall into sobs.

"I told you not to make a habit of it; I never said it wasn't alright to do at an appropriate time."

"I just don't understand. Why would Raven do that?"

"Because maybe she thought…well hell I don't know what she thought, but maybe the better question is why don't you find out?" Bruce said in a stoic manner.

Robin took a deep breath and tried to relax, feeling once again like a lost child in the presents of the man that in all right was a hero. He knew Bruce was right that, in order to understand Raven's intension he needed to understand Raven more so than he did. Thinking about it even deeper he then realized that he did not quite understand her as in-depth as he once thought he had.

"I just don't understand why I'm so anger at her, I mean god I could almost kill her myself." Rodin said realizing the irony of his words as Bruce shook his head.

"Believe it or not that's good; it means you care about her." Bruce said with sincerity. Robin flinched as the words hit him harder than Bruce had intended. "Perhaps more then you let on." He added with a smile. "Point is, she needs you now more than she ever has and she needs your understanding."

Robin nodded his head and looked down again at the tombstone; still fitting the awful memory in which his whole life had come to be. Again he thought of the irony; if his parents hadn't died he would have never met Bruce, which meant he would have never become Robin, which meant he would have never met Raven. Robin shuttered at the thought that his parent's death's may have prevented the death of his best friend and he hated himself for having such a thought. But the truth was he could not imagine life without her, whereas he had lived most of his life without his parents.

"Well Richard it was nice talking with you again, you should really keep in touch more. And it wouldn't kill you to visit." Bruce said as he began to walk off.

Robin smiled and said, "I will and I really did mean I was sorry."

His words caused Bruce to stop in his tracks and look back at Robin. He took a deep breath and said calmly, "I know Dick, I know." Bruce then paused and looked away before meeting Robin's eyes again. "Oh and by the way Dick, remember when you see Raven it isn't about you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Robin asked in a confused manner.

"You're a smart kid you figure it out, I'm not always gonna be here to talk you off the ledge." Bruce said before slipping off into the night, _I guess something's never change, _Robin thought to himself as he watched his mentor vanish. He then looked back to where his parents lay, the aura of death seemed to linger over him like a cloud of smoke, that threatened to smother him in its wake.

After a few moments he collected his thoughts and turned back to the path that led him to the place he stood now. Through seeing Bruce and getting caught up in the past, he had almost forgotten why he had come here in the first place._ To remember why I was angry._


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: First off I would like to say thank you to those of you who reviewed, followed for clicked on this story as I favorite. I hope they keep coming! I would also like to thank all those who read the first two chapters even if you're not following this story. Also I would like to add that there are parts of this chapter which some may find possibly a little graphic. Again I'm not trying to offend anyone, I' just writing from some of my experience. So I hope you all enjoy and please keep following and reviewing. (My grammar is not gonna fix itself.) Again I do not own Teen Titans or the song lyrics from Assemblage 23 thought I do recommend you check them out._**

**_With love_**

**_-Ophelia_**

**Chapter 3**

**Damaged**

_I am merely the product_

_Of the life that I've lived_

_An amalgam of sorrows_

_And the wisdom they give_

_But the weight has grown heavy_

_And it is dragging me down_

_It's so hard not to sink now_

_But I don't want to drown_

_-Assemblage 23_

It was absolute chaos as she waited in the common room alongside those of ill mind and thought. There were sounds of unprovoked screams and faint sobs that went unnoticed by the hardened orderlies and nurses, who made such a feet, look easy. Raven gazed out the window into nothing, in an attempt to follow their lead. This she found to be a lot harder a task then she had anticipated. Her thoughts were filled with an array of frustrations and calls for help that flooded her mind, threatening to devour her. She tried hard to numb her herself to her surroundings, but the constant anxiety and the emotionally unstable, unwillingly clawed at her, begging her to set them free from their pain. _How can I cure others, when I can't even cure myself? _Raven thought bitterly in her best attempt to cope with the unsuitable and barley humane environment.

No matter where she looked, the sights that displayed themselves were only a bleak reminder of her reality. From the woman who rocked herself alone in the corner, to the young man who threw fits if anyone tried to touch him. These wild displays of madness were only among the many that manifested themselves around her. And as much as she wanted so greatly to just ignore their confused pleas, (just as their caretakers did) she couldn't; though she tried desperately. The sad truth was as much as she wanted to help them she couldn't; not now, not here. She was trapped and physically incapable, her mind and body had endured too much and was going into over drive to repair itself. This meant Raven's powers were stunted and the only thing they were capable of doing was the one thing she wished they wouldn't; causing her to be in tune with others unbridled emotions and physical pain.

Still she kept her eyes fixed out the window, longing to escape into the world that went beyond, not only the glass, but even further. A faint reflection gazed back at her through deep eyes, that were filled with hopelessness, lost in the deception which was her life. The girl who stared back at her was only her reflection, only the perception that the world would permit itself to see. _This is how the world sees me now, _she thought in a grim moment, _as a girl ruled by her own madness_. Making the revelation, Raven pulled her knees even tighter to her chest, in a moment of self-defeat. She had never intended on surviving her attempt to end her own life, and now that she had, she would have to suffer the repercussions; such as being involuntarily committed to a psychiatric hospital.

She had spent the previous week in a medical hospital, where she was treated for what would have been permanent kidney damage, if it had not been for her powers; which were still hard at work trying to heal the damage. The hospital was also the place where the doctors and nurses had found the numerous cuts that plagued isolated areas of her flesh. Along with long faded scars that told a long story in which a tragedy was born. This along with the circumstances of her admission gave the doctors enough ammunition to have her involuntary commited to receive treatment at a psychiatric hospital on the out skirts of town. In which they disclosed that her stay was indefinite until they felt she was no longer a danger to herself. Raven of course was very upset; she had been in a coma for the first two days and in and out of consciousness for the next three. Even when she was able to maintain consciousness she was hardly coherent. So when she finally realized where she was going and for God knows how long, she became emotionally volatile and somewhat violent. This not only frightened her friends, but made them even less disagreeable as to her new living arrangement.

She could still see the looks on their faces as she literally had to be restrained and sedated, for fear she may hurt herself or someone else. Starfire of courses was deeply disturbed by this, and ran out of the room crying in dismay at her friend's arctic behavior. Cyborg looked shocked and somewhat afraid of her as he helped to hold her down, while a doctor administered a drug called phenobarbital, a commonly used sedative. During this struggle Raven had unknowing ripped the IV needle out of her right wrist, (which later revived stitches.) Causing her to bleed heavily and mortify everyone in the room. All the while Beast Boy sat speechless in a daze of disbelief at the sight of the most level headed and practical person he knew, acting like a complete lunatic. As for Robin, he was not there to witness Raven's, "mad scene". He could not bring himself to face her, especially after he had witnessed her suicide attempt.

For this Raven was grateful. She hated that of all people Robin had to see her play the role of Ophelia as she fell from her willow branch into the brook below. But to see her in a state of mania would have just been too much for to take. She already felt guilty for taking away his reality and replacing it with her own. After spending years trying to protect him from her, and now she had officially failed him.

Her eyes were still fixed on her refection as her thoughts plagued her mind, which was hazy from the drugs she had been given earlier that day. Though their hold on her had now mostly worn off, she still felt as though she was living in a daze. Her image seemed to stare back in a vague trance as another image came into view from the door way behind her. One she recognized, but did not expect to see. At first she thought it was her imagination or the drugs that were wreaking havoc on her mind. But when she turned to face the doorway she found that it was not empty as Robin stood in her plane view.

The two only stared at one another for a moment before either dared to move. Raven could tell not only by his body language, but also his unmasked eyes, that Robin was extremely hesitant. She had expected this, but to see it was far more difficult than she had anticipated. Finally Robin moved forward and entered the room. It was almost as though he were wearing blinders as his eyes were fixed on Raven and did not seem to notice the overwhelming amount of impropriety that filled the room around him. This surprised Raven; she had already been there a week and was still shocked at how disturbed these people were, (not to mention their care takers.) As he got closer she turned her eyes down in a shy attempt to disappear. She hadn't realized until now how embarrassed she was or how much she felt like a failure and now she had to face the one person whose opinion actually mattered to her.

Once Robin had reached her he pulled out the vacant chair that sat at the table across from her and sat down. He placed both his elbows on the table and rested his strong chin on his laced fingers like a perch, while Raven remained looking down at the floor. They remained silent for a moment as they were both afraid to speak, one out of fear of saying the wrong thing and the other out of fear of what she could not say. Finally Robin composed enough nerve to speak, though it was clear by the sound of his voice that he could not hide much.

"How are you Raven." He said, with his voice shaky with emotion.

Raven then looked up, she still fought to keep their eyes from meeting as she didn't want him to see how wounded she was, nor did she want to see how badly she had wounded him.

"I've been better." She said in a lower monotone than usual.

Robin felt his chest tighten at the sound of her voice. It was filled with anxiety, which made it sound fragile and weak, not to mention she could hardly look at him.

"I know," he said looking to the window for refuge, but it only offered the same view as it did Raven. "So how is your treatment going?"

This question made Raven laugh, something she had not done in over two weeks. However this was not as much a laugh of humor as it was of irony.

"What treatment?" She said with a slightly disturbing smile.

Robin looked puzzled and confused as she played with the bandages that bound her wrist. He couldn't help, but take her bate when he asked what she meant.

"It's pretty simple, I have not received any treatment since I've been here." She said now facing him, only giving him a quick glint into her eyes.

"That doesn't make any sense; you have to have at least talked to someone right?" Robin said furrowing his brow.

"Well let's see, I have not talked to anyone since I got here about my um, _"treatment," _but I have however been weighted three times and informed that I'm underweight; which would be useful if I were here to be treated for an eating disorder. But if you count the endless amount of pills that are forced down my throat on a daily basis, then maybe I am receiving, _"Treatment"_ after all." She said fighting to keep her voice down, but hardly succeeding.

This alarmed Robin to see her so easily wound up. Raven noticed this not just by the unsettled look that was displayed on his face, but also the wild mix of emotions that proud off him like a heat.

"Raven, maybe it just needs a little time." Robin said in an attempt to calm her down.

"Yeah, cause a week just isn't long enough." She said patronizingly.

"Raven, do you even really understand why you're here?" Robin said in slow manner, and though he tried not to sound condescending, it appeared to him that he had.

"I'm suicidal, not stupid." She answered sharply with a harsh tongue and facial expression to match.

_Same thing,_ Robin thought, but resisted the urge to respond with such bitterness. Though he could tell that Raven knew what he was thinking, but replied with tact anyway.

"I know that Raven, but seriously you're here because you need help and I…"

"Stop, just stop," Raven said cutting him off.

"Stop what, what am I doing?" Robin asked confused and trying to hide his clear frustration.

"Talking, just stop talking," she said trying her best to hold back the tears that were moments away from falling. Raven could feel how angry he was at her; though he tried his best hide it. Yet hearing him trying to hold back such a strong emotion only made it harder to handle. Knowing that no matter what, she could never remove that image from his mind, which only cut her deeper. "I can't handle this."

"Handle what?" Robin said trying not to let his emotions get the better of him, which was proving very difficult at this point. "Listen Rae, I'm trying really hard here to not say the wrong thing, which I'm obviously doing, so I don't know? What am I doing wrong?"

"You're talking to me and acting like I committed property damage." She said bluntly, to which Robin simply replied. "What?" Raven paused and placed her head in her hands while Robin tried to comprehend the situation.

"Okay, Rae listen I get it. You're upset, you clearly hate it here, I understand how…"

"No! You have no idea how I feel right now." She said cutting him off again. "I feel like I'm drowning, I always feel like I'm drowning and nobody understands that putting someone like me, in a place like this, is only setting me up to fail!" She exclaimed which caught the attention of the other inhabitance of the room.

Robin couldn't help, but look embarrassed as Raven tried to calm herself down for what little self-preservation she had left. Not to mention, she didn't want to be restrained or cause another scene in which she not only proved her madness, but justified her in voluntary admission.

"Alright that's fair, but I'm trying Raven. I really am." He said in a calm voice, trying his best to not overwhelm her. "Help me to understand."

Raven then took a deep breath and looked up to the ceiling to collect her overly stimulated thoughts. She then looked back down to Robin who was now looking her straight in the eye and this time was not going to back down.

"Your right I'm sorry, I'm not in a good state of mind right now." She said running her fingers through her hair, which was becoming a bit over grown.

"I know Rae, but that's why you're here to get help." Robin said trying to lighten her mood.

"Richard look around, does it look like anyone is getting any help around here?"

Robin then sat up straight and began to look around the room as though his blinders had been removed. His face fell once he noticed how dysfunctional their surroundings were. Never before had he seen people deliberately pulling out their own hair or talking to themselves in disturbed riddles of the mentally ill. The sights seemed to overwhelm him just slightly enough for Raven to notice.

"This is nothing believe me, you should see one of them have a tantrum." Raven said pulling his attention back in her direction. Robin only looked at her with a questioning face as she said, "These people that you see; they are incurable."

Robin's eyes filled with horror as he looked at Raven who was still playing with the bandages on her wrist. He didn't want to think of Raven as, "incurable" or even see her cataloged with such severely disturbed people.

"Raven I'm really sorry." He said in shock.

Raven could feel he meant his apology and though he was still angry with her, she knew that he really did want to help.

"The worst part is I can feel their confusion and anger and God only knows what. Plus their pain is constant. I'm losing my mind." She said quietly so that no one could hear her.

"That sounds awful, is there anything I can do?" He asked attempting to bridge the gap between them.

"You can get me out of here." Raven said, quickly popping her head up.

"Raven I can't do that; you were admitted by the HSE officer involuntarily. I can't get you out till you've finished your treatment." Robin said in a grim voice.

"You mean the treatment that doesn't exist." She said wiping away tears that now fell freely down her face. "So I'm basically trapped here."

"Listen Rae, I'm going to talk to someone, see if I can at least get you transferred to another hospital or a different ward." He said trying to console her and give her a shred of hope to hold on to. He hated seeing her like that; it was as if someone had taken everything she had to live for and just shattered it. Robin then tried another attempt to ease her pain. He picked up a bag he had with him and placed on his lap. "I thought you might be bored here, so I brought some of your books for you." Robin said knowing how much she loved to read. Robin then placed four books down on the table in front of her and continued to add that he was informed she could only have two of the books at a time.

Raven looked at the four books that lay before her; one was a book of short stories and poems by Edgar Allen Poe that she was very fond of. Also a smaller brown hard cover book, that was written in the early nineteen hundreds at the end of the Victorian era, filled with poems by English authors such as; Alfred Tennyson, Anne Bronte, Oscar Wild, and Elizabeth Browning. Raven pondered taking this one, and was very tempted. It was a first volume collection that had been out of print for far too many years to count and she wasn't fond of the idea of losing it. However there was one particular poem by Alfred Tennyson that she so desperately wanted to read called _The Lady of Shalott. _Raven loved this poem and could say with confidence that it was her favorite, especially now that the poem applied itself to her life more than it ever had. Still she decided against picking the book, reminding herself where she was, knowing that to have something even remotely valuable around would be foolish. Instead she picked a collection of Bram Stoker's short stories including _Dracula's Guest_. This particular volume was not worth much, only being printed within the last decade, so it could be replaced if need be. The last book Robin had brought her was the old classic _Rebecca_, one of the few books that she owned that was written after the ninetieth century. However the book was still very old, being written by Daphne du Maurier, in the late nineteen thirties and was among its first publications. But what made Raven hesitant to take this one was not a matter worth, but a matter of attachment. This book had belonged to her mother and she would have been heartbroken if anything had happen to it. With that realization Raven once again found herself left in the company of her dear friend Edgar.

Once she had chosen her books Robin the pulled out what looked like a notebook or a journal. It was a black hard cover book, of a reasonable size, with an adhesively bound spine. He placed it in front of her and said in a clam voice. "I also brought you this journal; I thought you may want to write down your thoughts."

Raven then picked up the journal to examine it. It had a bit of a weight to it, with a fine paper that bared pale gray lines to guide ones free hand. Raven then looked up at Robin, knowing he had put some thought into his gift and for the first time in weeks felt a genuine smile grace her features.

"Thank you Richard." She said making Robin smile in return.

"You're welcome," Robin then took out of his pocket, a small pack of crayons and held it out in front of her. "And it gets even better because you get your very own box of crayons." He said with his voice laced in sarcasm.

Raven raised one eyebrow and stared at Robin and then looked at the crayons.

"For real?" She asked in her own cynical manner, which Robin was more than happy to here.

"For real," he said setting them down in front of her, then continuing his reasoning, "you're not allowed to have any pens or pencils. I asked if you could have a sharpie, but they said that it could be used as a dangerous weapon." (Though no thought as to how made any sense to him.)

"Yeah I'm scarred just thinking about all the horrible things one could draw on my face." Raven said sarcastically then took the crayons from in her hand.

She opened the box to find in all, six crayons, all primary and secondary colors. She hated the idea of having to use such juvenile tools to write with, especially in such a nice journal. Still she knew it was this or nothing, though for a moment nothing seemed a little tempting.

Robin then gathered the two books Raven had forfeited and began to place them in the bag when he heard Raven speak.

"Have you ever Read any of those authors?" She asked in a distant voice, causing Robin to stop.

"No not really, why?" He asked looking back at her as she once again looked out the window.

"Because they might help you understand me better." She responded, still distant, but not too far.

Robin remained frozen for a moment, as he tried to find the right arrangement of words to say, but nothing very profound came to mind. He then placed the books in the bag and slowly got up from his chair. He then moved to Raven's side as she still starred out the window. Robin then looked out at the filthy pane of glass, noticing not only his reflection, but Raven's. Hers was vague and still, her pretty eyes peering deeply into something of great distance, of which he could not see, but wished he could.

"Raven can I ask you a question and do you promise to be honest?" he asked looking into her eyes through the window.

"I have nothing to lose." She responded with a blank expression and void voice.

Robin took this as a green light response, or at least he hoped it was and asked his question anyway.

"Do you regret anything?"

Raven then turned from the window and faced him, looking up into his clear blue eyes and said with her amethyst ones filled with a bitter honesty, "Only that I failed."


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: Alright so first off I would like to remind everyone that I'm not trying to glamorize this situation, because it is a serious one and should be treat with respect and I don't want to be disrespectful. Taking on this story is a bit tasking, when trying to write from the different point of views, some of which are very personal for me. And if anyone is feeling as though they may hurt themselves they should seek help. Harlin I completely agree with you about some of the younger writers thinking suicide is, "cool." I hope that maybe some of them read this story so that maybe they can understand the gravity of the situation and realize that it's not the pseudo illusion they may think it is. Anyways I'm over sharing, I just want to thank you guys for your great reviews and your thoughts; they do mean a lot me. I would also like to thank, (and I can't believe I'm about to write this,) Douchetitsjess101, for pointing out some grammar mistakes. Again thanks for your faves and follows guys. Let me know what you think about the direction this chapter has taken. Once again I do not own Teen Titan, cause if I did this wouldn't be a fanfiction, nor do I own these lovely lyric by Assemblage 23._**

**_With love_**

**_-Ophelia_**

**Chapter 4**

**How The Hell Did I Get Here**

_How much longer must I bleed_

_Into the soil before I see_

_The one who holds the blade is me_

_-Assemblage 23_

**This entry has been taken from the journal Raven Roth**

**(Originally kept in short hand)**

**How the hell did I get here? **

That is the question I have constantly been asking myself and to my surprise, it's not a simple answer.

To be honest I'm not even really sure where my path of self-destruction even began, but I can assure you that it was obviously destructive enough to end up here of all places. I mean never in my life did I think I would be sitting in a psychiatric hospital, where I was not even allowed to use a pencil, but instead found myself writing down my most personal thoughts in fucking crayon. (I mean really?) It's moments like this where I realize that I actually have nothing left to lose, because I have literally lost everything, not because I attempted suicide, but because I survived it.

When people attempt to take their own lives there is an aftershock where people no longer look at you with any credibility. They also tend to think that you only did such a thing out of a need for attention, which in some cases is true, but not all cases. In my case I truly did want nothing more than go to sleep and never wake up again. However, that didn't happen, so now I must suffer the consequences, because I technically committed a crime and must be punished for it. What is that punishment you ask? The complete and total lose over the rights to my own body, because I'm clearly not responsible enough to make decisions for it any longer. Instead I am now heavily medicated to the point I can hardly hold my crayon without shaking and I can't even take a shower without someone sitting in the same room with me, (because I'm apparently going to attempt to drown myself? Also the water is tepid at best, because apparently people like to burn themselves with hot.) I have also lost any shred of dignity I once had, (though most of that happened when I was throwing that little fit in hospital.) Along with any trust my friends once placed in me, because in the back of their minds they will never fully trust me again, especially Richard. He will always go back to that moment where he saw me lying on the bathroom floor, only inches of from death, and the sad truth is, that all of that is my own fucking fault. I let my destructive tendencies take over my life and because of that I have lost so much more than I have ever intended.

You would think that I have learned my lesson from this; that I have come to my senses perhaps, well you would be incorrect. Because I feel even more defeated now than I ever have, not to mention I have lost all my credibility among all those of sound mind. And to make matters worse, I not only proved my madness, but I have let it completely embody me in ways I tried so hard not to. To say the least I am far more a danger to myself now than I have ever been at any point in my life. The worst part is that my friends have seen the bleak truth that I have kept from them for years.

In general I kept my madness well hidden behind the closed doors of my room and the darkest parts of my mind. I used meditation as a form of self-medication and that work for a very long time. It kept me centered and focused on my behavior and reminded me to think things through before acting on my emotions, so I was always in control. However the meditation only helped to keep me numb, which was exactly what it was intended for; because that was the only way I could stay in control. Ironically that numbness would also become my undoing.

I grow up being trained not to feel anything, which I now realize, was probably more damaging than anyone had anticipated. Because of this I never learned to deal with my emotions and when I finally escaped from Azarath, I was bombarded with them from every direction. Everything from happiness to the purist form of hatred, all falling around me like a tone of feathers, to the point I thought I'd suffocate. With enough meditation I was finally able to gain control over myself, but I now had a taste for what emotion was like and I knew at that moment that my life would become far more complicated than it ever had. In that moment I could feel my control began to slip, slowly out of my hands.

Now for most people control is something that is taken for granted, because if they lose control, the repercussions are not as high a stake as they are for me. For example; if most people lose their control over a situation, they normally go through a slight depression, feel a little self-pity, talk to their friends, possibly feel a little embarrassment for letting things out of hand, but they move on. I on the other hand, well if I lose control over my emotions then all hell breaks loose, literally. My dark side takes over, (Not even exaggerating) and I go into a black out state where I have no idea what I have done, but I know it is evil at its core. Because that's what I am, no matter how hard I work to change that, it's just what I am. When I lose my control over myself I only feed my father's never ending influence over me, and there is nothing I can do to loosen his grip. Not even by sending him back to hell he came from and I know that most people may not understand this, but I would much rather die of my own volition than live another day under his.

This is the reality I live with, to know that I am not free, and I never will be. My friends think that they can help me, but they can't. I can only try to protect them from what I am, but it seems that I could not even succeed at that. I know they have seen my dark side before and they even know about Never More, but I don't think they completely understand what it truly is. Never More is in all essence my soul-self, meaning that it's not just inside of me, it is me. It also means I'm directly connected to my father and that he is an everlasting part of me. But what they don't realize is that it's not just who I am, it's where I live and I don't want to drag them down here with me.

Along with the loss of my self-preservation, I have also lost all responsibility, which I'm even more reminded of, seeing these words written in purple crayon. Each letter becoming more dens as my crayon grows dull from the force, with which I write. Because of my inability to stop my hand from shaking, my hand writing is even more childlike than I ever thought possible, and this is almost fitting since I now feel like child. It seems that not only am I suicidal, but I have digressed. For example; my current situation of not being able to even have a pen because I can't have any object that I could possibly use to harm-self or anyone else. Also I can't have an object that I can fit in my mouth for fear I might choke or try to hide an object that could be used as a weapon, (sounds like something you tell a child, right?) I can't make basic decisions for myself either, I'm told when to wake up and when to go to bed, what pills to take and when to take them, and even when to eat. I can not to be left along unless I need to use the bathroom and even then I need permission. Still I'm not even truly alone; I have to be escorted there and while I'm in the bathroom my escort waits outside the door just in case anything happens. Among other small injustices, the only comfort of the outdoors I have had is from the comfort of the window I'm sitting by. Though it is only a cruel reminder that there is an outside world beyond this place; one which some here may never see again. I just hope to God I'm not one of them.

I do have to say through all this that I do miss my friends, though I'm not looking forward to seeing them again. Just the thought of looking them in the eye and knowing that they see me for what I really am sickens me in a way I cannot even began to describe in full. It's something caught between guilt and anger and sits in the pit of my stomach with no sign of residing. Because looking back I can say that I have caused more damage to those who I keep closest to me, the ones I tried to protect, and I don't know if I can ever repair that.

I keep thinking back to all the times Richard tried to help me and I only pushed him away, not out of cruelty or anything of that nature. It was only out of fear of him loosing that sense hope that kept not only him, but all of us going. It actually hurt to watch him leave today, especially because I know I have corrupted his world. To just see his face fall in disbelief at the every sight of me felt like the twist of a sharp knife in my heart. Knowing that as much as he wants to help me, he equally resents me, and how could he not? I have after all, burned images into his mind he will never be able to erase.

I can also assure you that my fall from the subliminal willow branch was not graceful nor was it, romantic by any means. Unlike the illusion we are painted by artist who portray lovely young women throwing themselves into rivers, under starlit skies to profess their love, or whatever idiocy they sold you. I know to those who find the idea of suicide and self-destruction romantic, may find this hard to believe, but suicide is not pretty, it is actually quite the opposite. I can assure you that at no point did I have flowers in my hair or a lovely look upon my face or anything, other than my own indiscretions to lead me to this point. That idea is only, but a delusion that people cling to rather than face the truth. Suicide is permanent, and you don't come back from it. And to be honest I don't know if I can come back from living through it.

So to conclude, the answer to my question is not simple, but the answer is, me. This is all me. I got here because of me, because I lost control and as much as I would love to blame everyone else, but myself, I can't. The irony is everything I did to this point, was just a desperate attempt to stay in control and I clearly don't even have that now do I?


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N:_ _Alright so I had a really hard time with this chapter, I think it was mostly due to the fact I wanted it to push the story in the right direction? Anyway I found that a lot of you really liked the story told through Raven's point of view and I do intend on keeping up with that for most of the story, which is why I switch back to it towards the end of this chapter. Once again thanks for all your reviews, faves and follows, please keep them coming, you guys are helping push this story were it needs to go . I still don't own Teen Titan, The lady Of Shalott by Alfred Tennyson, or lyric from written by Bella Morte. To those of you might be interested, I do suggest reading The Lady of Shalott, it help give you an understanding of the story in a more in-depth way. Plus it's beautiful poem._**

**_Chapter 5_**

**_Hope Again_**

_As her eyes set with the sun_

_I will hope again_

_And this age old song plays on_

_I will hope again_

_-Bella Morte_

The trip home was spent in a daze of over whelming thoughts that left Robin bewildered as he thought about the day's events, such as having to be searched, to ensure that he was not in possession of anything that could pose a threat to others. He witnessed them confiscate a pair of ear buds he had in his coat pocket, along with his key change and of all things his wallet, because it had a belt chain attached to it. These simple objects only helped to solidify the reality of the situation, that what awaited him behind that locked door was very real. It would have all the characteristics of a nightmare, but the thought that he was awake only drove the fear and anticipation deeper.

He couldn't get over the sight of her looking out the window, feeling alone and afraid and realizing that he was helpless to guide her back. This only fueled the anger that hung in his throat, of all things he wanted to say, but couldn't. He felt like he was looking at her as she sat the crumbled ruins of her life while he looked in from the outside of the window, that was keeping them apart.

When he finally reached the tower he hesitated to enter for fear of having to relive all those painfully tangled details, knowing he would mostly likely be bombarded by enquiring question as to the condition of their lost friend. All looking for a glimmer of hope he so desperately wanted to give them, but couldn't at this time. He eventually coaxed himself into moving forward after looking out at the bay for an amount of time that had no concept. By this time, the sun was going down and the rich colors of ember reds and strange yellows filled the sky and bled upon the water's reflective surface. He found himself looking to it for not so much answers, but a feeling of something familiar to hold on to and try to grasp a shred of life before all this. Still as beautiful as the view was, it was also cruel, holding no shelter for him to run to, as it disappeared beyond the eye's ability to see.

Once Robin was inside he took a long breath and walked the long hallway to the sound of silence, which surprised him. Normally the sounds of childish arguments could be heard as they echoed down the hallway, warning anyone who entered what they were about to walk into. This brought on a moment of relief, but quickly reminded him of how abnormal things had become as of late. When he entered the great room he found it to be cold and empty, something he wasn't expecting to see. He thought for sure that they would be waiting for him, but they weren't. He then crossed the large room and carried himself down the hallway. The silence was eerie and left a large void that hung in the air like a fading echo, as he his foots steps feel silent against the carpeted floor. He thought about stopping to check up on the others as he passed their rooms, but didn't have the emotional stability to lend his support if it was needed at this time. Instead he pushed passed each door and too the end of the hallway, but stopped short at the last door before his room. It was something he had been doing quite often in Raven's absence, but he could never bring himself to enter.

He was too afraid of having to face the ghosts that remained trapped inside the dark room, with little remorse for his ego or regret. Still he knew with a full heart that they would break from the confines and force him to see them again at some point, sooner rather than later. So he gathered up his wounded pride and stepped toward the door. With nervous hands he placed them against the door and braced himself against the backlash that waited him behind it.

Upon entering the room his thoughts filled with the sounds of all the potentially broken promise he had made her and all the broken promises he already had. The ghosts screamed in their crossfire of furry as their voices echoed in haunting memories of raw emotion.

"_Raven you can't you keep doing this to yourself! How could you do that to your body?"_

"_Don't you dare try to tell me what I, "can't_ do"_ with my own body Richard!"_

The memory of their argument replayed in his head like a violent melody, filled with regret and words that could never be unspoken. He knew that even though he could never accept what she had done to herself, but he let his anger drive the situation to a height of which, they could only come crashing down from. This he had realized after their argument and wanted to try and mend the torn fabric of their friendship. Raven meant more to him than anyone and she obviously needed help, and yelling at her and demanding her stop doing something she was clearly ashamed of, was not helping her off the ledge. If anything it may have been the push she needed.

"Oh my God she was right," He said aloud, now sitting on her bed and looking up with glassy eyes, "I really did treat her like she committed property damage."

Robin felt a bit of self-loathing rise up in his throat and sink into his heart, where it ached in a dull grip as though it were held in a vice. He wasn't entirety sure why he was even sitting there, but he told himself it was for the answer he was still looking for. Possibly even that shred of hope that just refused to show itself, but he found neither. All he could find was the sting the memories left behind.

"You know sitting here in the dark isn't going to make you feel any better." Said a deep, familiar voice from the doorway.

Robin looked up to find Cyborg leaning against the door frame with a worried facial expression.

"Hey Vic," Robin muttered through the facade he tried to through up, so that his friend wouldn't see his vulnerability. However, a man like Victor Stone could not be so easily fooled; he knew how Robin felt without having to ask, just like he knew how he felt about Raven before Robin even had a clue. "So how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know you're not ok." The robotic man said short, in a grim voice.

Robin paused and took a deep breath; he knew he could hide from Beast Boy and Starfire, but not from Cyborg. He was easily the big brother that none of them ever had and this came from his ability to understand people in a way that most people can only dream of.

"So are you here to ask about Raven?" Robin asked looking out the window as the moonlight crept through the glass.

"Only if you wanna talk about it?" Cyborg responded, still waiting in the doorway.

Robin then took a deep breath and exhaled.

"I just feel like… part of this is my fault." Robin revealed as his voice cracked from the tension in his vocal cords.

Cyborg took this as a sign to enter the room and took a seat beside his wounded leader.

"Dick we all feel guilty in some way about why Raven, did what she did, but we can't blame ourselves. We can only try and support her through this." Cyborg responded with a heavy voice as he went into what the other Titans referred to as his, "school counselor mode."

"Yeah, but none of you yelled at her, or made her feel even worse about herself," Robin said in defeat, "and I did that. That's not something you do to someone you love." He said forgetting himself, then realizing the words that had come out of his mouth and froze up.

Cyborg took a long moment to take in the words that Robin had released. He was well aware of the argument that had taken place between them, and why Robin was upset with her. And to be honest Cyborg didn't blame Robin for his concerns. However he did knew Robin also had a bad habit of flying off the handle when the people he loved were doing something he felt was dangerous, and in Raven's case she was doing a few thing Robin found very dangerous. Still Cyborg knew it was no excuse for him to lecture her about her problem, because that wouldn't make her feel any better about it.

"So did you tell Raven how you feel?"

"No."

"Listen Dick, I know your probably sitting here, thinking that you waited too long to figure out your feelings and that know you've lost her, but there's still time. Raven needs us right now, but in truth, I think she needs you more than the rest of us. She also needs to know that no matter what, we'll be there for her."

"I know that, I just don't know how help her." Robin said at a loss.

"We show her we love her, even after all this, it's all we can do."

"Do you think things will even be normal again?" Robin asked in a low voice.

"No, I don't, but maybe they aren't supposed to be. I know this situation is far more difficult than anything we have ever faced as a whole, but I think we can see it through and be even stronger from it. My old man use to say, "that even the worst experiences can makes us better people, we just have to be willing to learn from them."

Robin smiled at Cyborg's ability to persevere and in awe of how someone like Victor Stone could possess robotic parts, yet still be even more human than most full flesh and blood human beings. Robin sometimes found himself wondering if it was the loss of his physical humanity that made him more human or if it was just who Victor was. Either way he was happy to know he could confide in him and not be judged for it.

"Thanks Vic, I really needed to hear that." Robin said with a weak smile.

"Well man that's what friends are for, to say what needs to be said," Cyborg said now making his way to the door, "and you should do the same." He said before exiting the room.

Robin then shook his head at Cyborg, and then looked down at the bag of books Raven had declined. He reached down and picked it up, then pulled one of them out. It was the book of poems from the nineteen century; he flipped through some of the pages and thought back to what Raven had asked. He had never even heard of some of the authors before and most of the poems had names of an obscure nature that hid the impropriety of a society that preached morality, but held unrealistic expectation. He then flipped to a page of a particular poem that was entitled _The Lady of Shalott. _For some reason the named drew him in, as though there was something there he couldn't see. He then closed the book and left the dark room, taking the book with him.

Once he was in his own room, he sat down at his desk and placed the book down. He thought about the promise he had made to Raven, before he left the hospital. He told her he would help her and now he felt the need to come through on that promise, even if it was the last thing he'd ever do. He then turned on his computer, knowing that to come through on this he would need help and he knew exactly who to ask, though he hated asking him for favors.

After he penned the letter, he signed and sealed with every intention of sending it off in the morning. He felt that emailing his request would seem impersonal, and he knew that he would be taken more seriously if it was sent by mail.

Once he was finish, he laid back on his bed with the book in his hands. He then flipped back to the poem that coat his eye and began to read the old lines of rhyme. As he read, a certain line from last stanza in the second part of the poem caught his eye, which read, _"I'm half sick of shadows,"_ _said The Lady of Shalott."_ This pertained to the reflections of the world, which she was forced to see through a mirror, because she was not permitted to see it through her own eyes. It also read that if she looked away from the mirror and at the world directly, a curse would fall upon her.

Before finishing the poem Robin sat up, realizing he had a piece to the puzzle in his hands as a thought crossed his mind. _Is that how Raven feels? Like she is looking at the world through a mirror and can't live life on her own terms?_ The thought remained with him even after fishing the poem, which continued to reveal that the lady eventually looked away from the mirror and to world behind her. This caused the mirror to crack and break, signifying the world crashing down around her. It ended with her breaking the chain to a boat, (symbolically breaking the chain of life) and floating down the river, where she later died as a result of the curse. All because she wanted what she couldn't have, but ran after it any, knowing full well, it would be her undoing.

Upon finishing the lengthy poem, Robin lay awake for a long while as he thought about what he had just read and all the ways it pertained to Raven. He felt now that he may have a better understanding of her, or at least he knew more now than he did yesterday, as it was now 12:05 am. It wasn't until 12:15 that sleep finally claimed him and he drifted off and escaped from the world for only a few hours.

**The Following Poem Has Been Taken From the Journal of Raven Roth****(Please read poem by column.)**

**Dressed in White**

I think I had a dream last night,

Of a black house burning in the moon light.

The flames that burned fulfilled my sight,

As a girl stood afar all dressed in white.

The winter sky was filled with flame

As I walked along the place of graves.

For a moment, I thought of turning back,

From that place, that smelled of brim and ash,

Which fell from the sky like snowy black,

In silence in this place unknown and brash.

Within this place I walked upon,

With nothing that I could hold on.

She who held her back to me,

Refused to turn and let me see,

The face of which I had no sight.

As it faced the fire, that was burning bright.

Before the house there was a creek,

Though it was cold and nearly black as ink.

Beneath it lay a sleeping girl,

One whose face I'd seen before.

She looked back at me with eyes of white,

As she clearly no longer possessed life.

Still with my hand I tried to reach,

But the ice had trapped her underneath.

I then turned, to find in front of me,

The girl in white was there with me.

Her hair was long and violet stained,

And her face was really all the same.

For she looked just like the sleeping girl,

And she stood out in the white she wore

In her hand there was a tarot card,

That told a story from the stars.

She placed the card with in my hands,

Though burnt from all the time of sands.

I looked to find a gallows cross,

And a man who hung, with life and loss.

For in suspense, his life it hangs

And all the while soft, the Raven sang.

I looked down, for a moment when,

The girl looked down, to me and said,

"You see, the hang man is a fool,"

She spoke, as though it only sounded cruel

She turned her head, then spoke again

"Fear death by water, if you can."

It was then she turned away from me,

No more her face could now be seen.

The girl began to walk away,

Into the winter night, she swayed;

As though she were only just a,

Shadow, in the lonely rain.

I turned and looked upon the face of mine,

That lay beneath the ice entwined.

These words were left to be my guide,

As I looked down with my eyes held wide.

The girl who walked away from me,

Was only just a part of me,

Though a part of me I did not know,

But it seems she's left me here alone.

Her words of which I'd heard before,

And maybe now I'll fall no more.

Still I awake to find my life intact,

But wished I could only just go back.

_**A/N: I initially was going to write Raven's dream in a standard format, but this poem just came out when I wrote the first sentence. I thought it might be an interesting concept for the character and I hope it came off that way. I know I'm not the greatest poet, but I hope you enjoyed it. :P**_


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: So it took me a lot longer to write this chapter, mostly because when I started writing it, I decided that I really hated it about half way through, so I deleted it the shit out of it:P I then decided to take this chapter in a different direction. Also because this journal entry became very long, I decided to split it up in to two different chapters so that you guys wouldn't hate me. So I would like to thank Theblackbirdsong for giving this story a chance, I really appreciate it and thank you for your awesome feedback. I also want to thank; Harlin, Nkcandygirl and Neoncookie14, for your reviews as well. I hope this chapter does not disappoint. And thanks to all those following and adding this as fave. I do not own Teen titans._**

**_With love_**

**_-Ophelia_**

**Chapter 6**

**I Hear Nothing, But The Voices in My Head**

_Cover your ears_

_You don't wanna hear_

_The whispers in the walls are making it clear_

_You're all by yourself_

_There is no one else_

_You'll sleep when the shadow moves over you_

_-The Birthday Massacre_

**(Entry Taken from the Journal of Raven Roth)**

**Part 1: I hear nothing, but the voices in my head**

Last night was, well strange on a few different levels. I'm still trying to make sense of my dream, I know that I've heard, "the hangman is a fool," somewhere before, but I can't put my finger on it. Also, "fear death by water," is that another subliminal Ophelia reference, or am I just losing my mind? (Probably both.) I just don't understand how a fictional dead girl, can have so much influence over my life? It's almost funny in a way that the person I identify with the most doesn't even exist, yet she seems so real. Either way it's just my mind literally, trying to tell me something I don't understand and possibly never will, but hey, it's just one of the perks of being me, right?

Anyway, I have an update on my status here and it looks like I wasn't forgotten of after all. This morning I was informed by a nurse that I would be taken to the medical ward, (which I will later explain,) to finally meet my doctor. When I heard this news I was actually surprised, due to the fact that I was beginning to think that he didn't exist, (much like my dear Ophelia.) The nurse also added that this had taken a bit longer than expected, because due to the hospital being very, "understaffed" my case had to be reassigned. After receiving this information, I find myself actually very nervous, mostly because I'm not really sure what to expect. I don't exactly know what meeting my doctor will be like or what can come out of it. I have heard stories from some patients that they've had great doctors, that were understanding and helpful in every way, but I have also heard stories of complete horror shows as well. And if my doctor is anything like the shrink I got my sleeping pills from, then I'm in a lot of trouble.

For most of the morning, I waited anxiously by, what I now think of as, "my" window. Looking out into nothing, as my mind was fragmented with thoughts and questions that burned as they were hindered by medication. Dreading the fact that I would not only, have to face my demons, but that I would also be expected to trust a total stranger. I mean, I have a hard enough time trusting my friends, let alone someone whose name I don't even know. And I'm supposed to just tell this person all the very personal details of my life, in which, drive me closer to the edge?

At this thought I caught myself glancing down at my bandages and thinking of the secrets that lay hidden beneath them; though at this point the only person that thinks they're a secret is me. I spent years, not only hiding my madness from others, but also from myself and even longer pretending I wasn't. I then looked away in a moment of shame, and pulled down the long sleeves of my black sweater over them, to conceal my unsavory memoirs. I then pulled my eyes back to the window, trying to escape from the emotions that began to scream in my head.

You see one thing that on body knows about me, (or at least on body living,) is that my emotions each have an individual voice. This is something I have dealt with my entire life, and has driven me to the brink of insanity on more the one occasion. As a child they were faint and well, I hardly noticed them, but the older I got, the more aggressive they became. Around the age of ten is when I started to actually understand what they were saying. I would lay in bed at night, wide awake as they filled my head with jumbled arrangements of words and nonsense, but it was still enough to paralyze me with fear to the point I couldn't sleep at night. For a long time I never mentioned the voices and just endured them, hoping that maybe they would just stop; but they never did. Another reason I never mentioned it was because everyone was already deathly afraid of me, and I didn't want to give them even more reason to look at me like a monster.

Still, in time it had progressed to the point where I could not even think, because of the agonizing pain, but also my powers began to almost erupt and fell out of my control. (No surprise there.) Because of this, I was no longer able to hind my, new found abnormality and later found out after having my first of many mental breakdowns, that these voices were, "only my emotions." And the reason they became so volatile was because I was unknowingly, "feeding them." In this case, because I didn't understand how to deal with my emotions, I had only been fueling them with fear and anxiety, which only provoked emotions such as; fear, anger, sadness, panic and hate, to wreak havoc in my mind. Needless to say, my attempt at sparing those, who already looked at me as a ticking time bomb, from yet another reason to fear me, only lead to even more fear and more caution used when dealing with me. I soon found myself spending even more hours in intense training and mediation, to teach me to control my emotions, which clearly had a stronger effect over me than anticipated. Looking back I think I can say with confidence that was where the battle over my mind began.

For years I meditated to keep them quite or at least to a dull whisper. There are very few moments when their voices are actually silent, so few, I can actually count them on one hand. For the most part, I had a handle on them until about two years ago, around the same time when my father tried to destroy this plane. Once again I found myself lying awake in bed at night, much like the frightened little girl, who was so afraid of what she was. It was almost like I had hit a wall, nothing I did worked to quiet them down, mostly because I couldn't quite myself. Because at this point in my life I had everything to lose, and to lose to my father also meant I would lose to myself. Then all the sleepless nights, long days of mediation, and all the days I wanted to just end it all, but convinced myself not to, would all be for nothing. It was only after this ordeal with my father that they actually quieted down for a while, but this was only because for a brief period of time I felt free and well, that didn't last. I soon realized that though I had made a huge stride in the fight against Trigon, he was still very much a part of me, and he would be until the day I died.

I found myself struggling with dark thoughts and doing anything I could to stop the voices from screaming to load. Once again I found myself hopeless and depressed, a cycle I thought would never end. Richard of course noticed my unmovable state melancholy and had a one on one intervention with me. I told him only as much as I could bring myself to say, knowing that there were somethings that were better left unsaid. However I only told him about my inability to sleep, and that my emotions were tearing me apart. Though emotionally, I could feel that he knew there was more I wouldn't tell him, and to a certain extent, he had always been very respectful of my privacy, but now I think he could see the cracks starting to form along my stoic surface.

Richard being Richard, of course, let me know that he was there if I needed him, and that he would support me no matter what I was facing. He then gave me the name of a psychiatrist he knew through the grapevine, which I accepted with no intention of ever going, until a few nights later.

I was alone in my room doing my usual, starring at the ceiling, wait for the sleep that would never come, while listening to my emotions scream to the point they almost became deafening. I hadn't slept in days, and when I did sleep, it was usually because I was so tired I would just pass out from exhaustion. But for some reason, I was far beyond this point, and actually began to hallucinate. I literally thought that my emotions were not only yelling at me, but that they were also standing right in front of me, trying to pull me back to Nevermore. I remember them screaming for me to either fight, or give up, while others laughed about how they were taking me back to my father.

Even though this was only a delusion, it felt all too real, I remember pleading with them and begging them to let me go, and just stop talking. At one point I felt two hands wrap around my shoulders and I looked up to see four red eyes, glowing under a red hood. At this sight my blood ran cold and the voices stopped along with everything else. I must have gone into a state of shock, because I don't remember anything. I just remember waking up in the main room in a haze, with a pounding migraine and my friends staring down at me, with looks of fear and concern displayed across their faces.

Apparently, while I was having my um, "little episode," I was unaware that my powers were completely out of control, causing the entire tower to shake, and also causing everything in my room, that practically wasn't bolted down, to fly from one wall, to the next. Of course this woke everyone in the tower, and to no surprise Richard was of course the first one to make it to my room, where he then found me huddled on the floor, crying, and in a complete state of mania. Once he had reached me, he had placed both his hands on my shoulders, to try and get my attention. Apparently when I looked up at him, he said my eyes when blank, and everything just stopped, for one, full second. Until then the window behind me shattered. I was told, after the destruction of my window, that I lost consciousness, leaving Richard to clear a path through the shards of broken glass, that has scattered themselves around us like fallen ice.

During this lovely recap of how I almost destroyed the tower, I noticed that I had a few fresh cuts on my legs, nothing of a serious nature, but serious enough that Richard had taken the time to clean, and bandage them. I could see by the look on his face that there was something, he was not telling the others nor I, and I knew every well what that something was. I ended up having to sell them a story, that I was having a night terror and that I'd be fine with a little mediation, you know the same speech I always give them every time something unusual happens to me. (Which is often.)

So due to the state of my room, and the ridiculous amount of glass that had spilled itself across it, covering also everything I obviously couldn't spend what little, was left of night there. Instead I had to use one of the spare rooms we had in the tower. Richard insisted that he walk me there, and with my head threating to explode, I was in no condition to refuse. Once we were alone Richard closed the door and sat down on the bed next to me. I could tell by the look in his crystal blue eyes that he wasn't just making sure I was comfortable, as they looked into mine. I could see his were now taking on a stormy color, which only happened when he was angry or felt at a loss. He was about to speak, and I knew every word that was about to come out of his mouth.

"You're not going to tell the others are you?" I asked as though I were nothing, but a frightened child.

Richard clenched his jaw and looked away for a moment unsure of what to say. I could feel both his sadness and anger boil as he tried to hold it down for my sake, but he still couldn't contain it completely, as it slipped through his voice when he replied. "I want to, but I know if I do, you'll never trust me again."

I couldn't say anything and I didn't want beg or look even more pathetic then I already did. So I just looked down at my hands, which at times were my own worst enemy. Richard then reached out his left hand and placed it to upon my offending right one, where he held it as he continued. "Raven, I won't say anything, but only under two conditions," he said in a stern voice, still holding my hand with his emotions practically electric upon it. "One, you have to see the psychiatrist I told you about and two, you have to promise me you'll stop."

"Richard it's not that eas…"

"No, promise me." He said, cutting me off and tightening the grip on my hand. The look in his eyes begged for me to comply as they were glassed over, casting my refection, so I could see how much my own actions could hurt someone that cared so much about me. All the while my voices cried and carried on in their ignorance.

"Only if you promise not to leave me alone tonight," I whispered in a moment of weakness.

"Are you really that afraid?" He asked as I could feel my tears starting to run down my face, only to find my pillow to catch them.

"More then you know," I replied letting go for a moment.

Richard then lifted his hand and placed it behind my head, then leaned in and kissed my forehead, where he kept his chin pressed, as he whispered with a muffled breath, "Then I promise to never leave you alone."

He then released my head and pulled back, then saw the tears falling down my face. It was then he once again lifted his hand and began to use his thumb in a gentle manner to wipe away my tears. His gaze caught my eyes, and he began to lean in again, when his thumb found my bottom lip where it remained there. For a moment we both paused, only but an inch from each other, and for that moment my voices were completely silent, but that was only a moment.

_"Don't!"_ They all screamed in a horrid unison and everything went dark.

Once again, they was the last thing I remember before waking up the next morning or shall I say late morning as it was now the crack of one fifteen in the afternoon. I pulled myself out of bed, still dizzy, but better balanced then I was the night before. Richard was nowhere to be found as I looked around the empty room and made my way to the door. I slowly walked down the hallway with only my emotions to keep me company, with their whispering jumbles of words that intertwined into nothing, but madness. My first instinct was to make my way to the kitchen and make myself a cup of tea, in hopes to dull the migraine that throbbed in my skull. But before I could make it there I found the rest of the team hard at work, picking up the pieces of broken glass and trying to organize my things to the best of their ability. At first they didn't see me, so I pressed my back against the wall and waited a minute, debating on whether or not I wanted to face them. Not just because of all the questions they would ask or all the half-truths I would have to weave, in order to keep up my delusion that everything wasn't falling apart. I just didn't want to find out if they knew.

I then came to the conclusion that I would have to face them eventually, but that could wait till after I at least had a cup of tea. I waited till everyone had their backs turned, then quickly moved to the kitchen, which I found to no surprise to be empty. I took a deep breath and opened the cupboard and took out one of my tea tins, it was ginger which I keep on hand for soothing headaches and other physical annoyances. As I wait for the water boil, I reached for my tea steep and filled it with the dehydrated ginger leaves, then added to the boiling what approximately three sticks of cinnamon. Once the water had reached a full boil, I poured the hot liquid in to the cup and let it steep, then add one teaspoon of honey and let the contents cool. The only reason I even describe this, is because when I feel the way that I've felt for the last week and a half, this is the first thing I do to nurse my wounds. And there is nothing I wouldn't give for just this small feeling of home.

Anyway, I had taken a seat at the table while I waited for my tea to cool to a point that I could tolerate drinking it, when guess who, walked through the door. (If you guessed Robin you get a prize.) He was surprised to see me sitting there and by the look on his face, I could tell he had something he wanted to say.

"I didn't know you were awake, how you feeling?" He said slowly with plenty of caution.

"Like I assume Gar felt, after Roy dared him to put away too many tequila shots last Halloween." I said mustering up a bit of sarcasm, but it did hurt like hell.

Richard just smiled and set down the box of broken glass and took a seat across from me.

"Do you remember anything about last night?" He asked in a concerned voice.

Parts of it, what happened?" I asked wondering if there was something that I hadn't retained.

"You just passed out; I figured it was because you were exhausted. I stayed with you for the rest of the night to make sure nothing happened to you."

"Did anything happen to me?" I asked feeling a little guilty, knowing that I was the cause of Richards's sleepless night.

"No, I just didn't want you to feel alone." He said, making my heart skip a beat for more reasons than one. "Do you remember what we talked about last night?"

I paused in hesitation of having to relive that conversation, which was clear I was going to have to and just nodded. I then took a long sip of my tea to calm my nerves, while Richard remained silent for a few moments then began to speak again.

"Good, because I called Dr. Quinzel and set up an appointment for you, on Thursday at three o'clock." He said, once again using a cautious voice.

I remained silent for a moment and took in his words. I couldn't help, but feel a little betrayed that he had taken it upon himself to do such a thing. I felt as though maybe he didn't trust me enough to take my word that I would hold up my end of the bargain. I also felt angry at the fact, he had taken away my control to make that decision for myself, weather it was the right decision or not, this was my mind and body, and I did feel that what I did with it, was my business. However the only thing that kept me from telling him how I felt was the fact that as much I really wanted nothing more than crush him, I knew that he was only doing it for my own good.

Richard looked at me for a long moment as I did my best to keep my anger at a standstill, so that he could not see how much rage was boiling inside of me. Still I as much as I wanted to completely lose it, I just put on a plastic smile and said with as little frustration as possible, "So Thursday at three o'clock?"


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N: So in all honesty I did not really expect to write this chapter, it just sort of came out, but I think that is a good thing. Much like Raven's pervious journal entry, a lot of it was written off the cuff, making the emotion a little more raw, and spur of the moment, and I think that makes them feel more authentic that way. Anyway would also like to add that some of you have pointed out some grammar and spelling mistakes and I would like to thank you. I really do go back and fix them if you bring them to my attention. Once again thanks to all those who have reviewed and followed. And a special thanks to Jessi for sharing the story on facebook and twitter. One last thing you guys may want to keep in mind who Raven's physiatrist is. I do not own Teen Titans._**

**_With love_**

**_-Ophelia_**

**Chapter 7**

**Take The Pill**

_Describe the illness, I'll prescribe the cure_

-_Rozz Williams_

**(Continuation of the Pervious Entry **

**Taken from the Journal of Raven Roth) **

**Part 2: Take the Pill**

Thursday came sooner than I than I'd hoped, as I found myself standing outside this very building, thinking hard about running away and never stepping foot inside. However I knew that if Richard found out, he would never trust me again. And even though he kind of screwed me over, he was only looking out for what he thought was best for me, (though our views of what is best for me tend to differ.) However with a lot of self-reinforcement, after a lot of what ifs, I found myself in the waiting room, by the stroke of two fifty-three. Staring up at the clock as it ticked away, marking another precious minute lost. Finally after several painfully long minutes, the clock struck three and I heard a slightly obnoxious voice call my name.

I looked to find a tall, pretty blond in her mid-thirties standing to my right. Once she saw me look in her direction she then began to walk toward me.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Quinzel and you must be Raven, it's nice to meetcha doll." She said, verbatim, I'm not even kidding you. I was actually quite shocked; I was not expecting someone who was supposed to be a medical doctor to sound like the girl from one of Gar's favorite movies, _My Cousin Vinny._

"Hi," I said with a raised eyebrow, but kept my lack of enthusiasm.

"Well my dear, you can follow me and we'll get started. How's that sound?" She said in her very flamboyant voice.

"Just peachy." I responded rolling my eyes.

"Wonderful, my little bird." She exclaimed in her heavy New York accent.

Once we got to her office, she told me to take a seat on a small couch as she sat across from me in a brown arm chair. She then began to ask me some questions as to my reasons for seeing her. I of course had to fight the urge to answer, _because my best friend is black mailing me,_ and responded with, "Because I'm tired of not being normal I guess?"

The good doctor then smiled and said in an almost curious way, "Oh, now why would ya say that you're not normal?"

For a moment I paused and thought about how entertaining it might be to just tell this woman, I had never met before in my life, every last dark detail of how my life is so fucked. I mean how funny would that be to just be say, with a straight face mind you, "Yeah, my father is an inter-dimensional demon, hell bent on destroying the universe, he raped my mother and she later tried to kill herself after she found out she was pregnant with me, but then she was saved by this group of pacifists, who worshipped this woman named Azar, who created a new world for them to escape from earth, but not my father, because he later destroyed them all, but I escaped and came to earth, but not before being conditioned not to feel anything, which means I get to sit back and not only watch everyone else indulge in their emotions, but because I'm an empath, I can feel other people's emotions , so this only makes my existence that much worse, because remember I'm not allowed to feel any of my own, but I get to feel everybody else's, and trust me that is far more cruel then it sounds, the reason I can't feel my own emotions is because if I do my father will become more powerful, and that means I failed, and just that alone throws me into a devastating depression, and let me not forget about the voices in my head, because they themselves should be enough to drive me crazy and they do, and I know how sad all this is, and your probably wondering why the hell I'm still breathing, but that's only for the sake of my friends, who don't even know half this stuff, because if they did I couldn't live with myself, so I just lock myself in my room and hide, along with all my dark secrets, one of which my best friend discovered, then threatened to tell everyone if I didn't talk you, and basically that's why I'm here." Now wouldn't that be something?

However I decided to just go with the Reader's Digest version, mostly because I didn't feel like getting committed to the psych ward, (yet here I am), but I was very tempted.

"Well, I just feel like I don't fit in anywhere." It was true, I didn't and in all honesty, I still don't.

"Well, that's normal." She said with her lipstick smile. "That's actually very normal, plenty of people feel the same way, your just one of many doll." She continued in an almost patronizing tone, as though trying to diminish my feelings by saying you're not the only one, get over it.

"Well isn't that ironic, guess I'm cured." I said very sarcastically.

Dr. Quinzel then laughed and said almost mockingly, "Oh doll, you are far from cured."

I remember there was something about the sound of her voice that made my skin crawl, and I didn't like the look in her eye. There was something about her I just didn't trust, yet for some reason I stayed, maybe it was out of fear of what would happen if I didn't or maybe because I didn't want to disappoint Richard, but either way a stayed.

"Ya know, you look tired, do ya sleep well?" She asked in an almost flirtatious manner.

"No, sometimes I don't sleep at all." I responded still hesitant to trust her.

"Oh well, that's what I thought, now do ya have trouble either, fallin asleep or stayin asleep?" She asked.

"Both, but mostly falling asleep."

"Alright, and how long has this gone on for Doll?"

"Um, off and on since I was about ten, but it has gotten worse over the last year."

She went on to ask me more questions about my sleeping habits, or in my case lack of sleeping habits. She then came to the conclusion that though my insomnia was chronic, it was not what she called a, "primary case," instead she said it was secondary and caused by another condition and went on to diagnose me with depression, (which I think was obvious.) Once the session was over she then picked up her prescription pad and began to explain what she was doing.

"Alright my little bird, I'm gonna go ahead and write you a prescription for Trazodone, it's used for depression, but should also help you with ya little sleep issue, and Elavil for your depression."

"But I thought you just said that the Trazodone was for depression, why do I need two antidepressants?" I asked her in a skeptical tone.

"Well, the Trazodone I want ya to use as a sleep aid and I'm prescribing ya the Elavil because it will also help with those pesky migraines you was complainin about. Now the Trazodone I want ya to take 50 mgs at night before bed. As for the other stuff, take 50 mgs a day to start off. Now I want to see you back here next week at three again if your symptoms don't improve then we will adjust the medication accordingly, okay doll?"

I hesitated taking the little pink slips from her hand; I felt if I took them, they would be an admission of guilt that I really was crazy. But also because I was not convinced that all my problems could just be fixed with a couple of pills. Not to mention, I really didn't trust this woman and there was something about her I couldn't shake, but I swallowed my pride and took the slips from her hand anyway.

Later that night, I pick up the medication from the pharmacy that I had dropped the prescriptions off at. The pharmacist told me that I should use caution while taking both prescriptions at the same time and suggested that I only take them at night. He also told me that if I had an increase in suicidal thoughts to stop taking the medication right away and call my doctor. _I thought these pills were supposed to make want to kill myself less,_ I thought to myself as I walked out of the pharmacy.

Once I was back at the tower I went straight to my room and headed to my bathroom, where I began to read the printed labels. _Take one tablet once a day at night before bed,_ read clear across the label on the 50 mg of Trazodone bottle. I then opened it to find it filled with small, round, pale pink pills and poured a small handfull into my palm. Their texture was smooth and chalky as I ran my fingers over them in curious fashion. _So I guess these pills are supposed to be my salvation_? I thought looking into the mirror, almost waiting for my reflection to answer such frivolous question. It was then I heard a knock at the door, so I poured the pink capsules back in the bottle and fastened the lid.

It was then I heard Richard's voice at the door as I began to open it.

"Hey Rae, how did it go?" He asked in a causal tone.

"She says I have depression," I said in a cynical tone, "like I didn't already know that?"

"Oh Rae I'm sorry to hear that…"

"Don't be, it's fine, just one more thing we can add to the list of things that are wrong with me." I said, turning away from him and falling on my bed in defeat, while Richard followed behind me.

"Raven, you shouldn't feel that way; there is nothing wrong with you." He said trying to comfort me.

Again I found myself debating whether or not to share my giant run on sentence of a history, just to see the look of shock roll over someones face. But decided I was far too tired and didn't want to force my depression on poor Richard, even though he did force me to go to see Dr. Quinzel, but I digress.

"I just feel like no matter what I do I always come back to the same hopeless place, do you know how that feels?" I said not actually meaning for it to sound like a question.

"Yes." He said in a dull tone.

I turned to him in shock, not that I could believe that the things Richard had been through were not valid, but more that it hurt to know he knew such an awful feeling.

"What," I said in surprise and looked back at him, "like what?"

"Every time I see Slade, I always find the same familiar feeling of hatred and resentment wash over me. I don't know what it is, but it invokes something in me that I can't fight." He said in a dark voice that sent a chill up my spine. "We all have our dark sides Rae, you're not alone."

"Yeah, but my dark side isn't something that will ever go away." I said with a sigh.

"Their not supposed to Raven, that's why they're our dark passengers."

"You've been watching too much _Dexter, _Bird Boy." I said shooting him a slightly cynical smile.

Richard smiled and leaned back as he replied, "Yeah, but you read too much, Bird Girl."

"At least I can read," I shot back at him. We then both began to laugh and I decided that I was going to confide him. "If I tell you something do you promise not to tell?"

"Of course Raven you can tell me anything and I'll never betray your trust." He said with a spark in his eye to the fact that I was about to share a secret with him.

"She put me on antidepressants."

He then looked at me and mustered a smile.

"Do you think you need them?"

"I don't know, I've never taken them before, so I don't know what to expect, but I'm kind of afraid to."

"Why?"

"Because they might not work," I said looking down, "and if they don't then maybe that means there is no hope for me."

"Raven I know this is scary, but this isn't the end of the road, if the medication doesn't work then we'll find another way, I promise."

_That's easy for you to say, Boy Blunder, _I thought trying not to roll my eyes.

"But what if it is?"

"It's not, stop saying that, it will all be fine." He insisted.

However I was still skeptical, my entire life had been filled with the same amount of effort, all in hopes of ridding me Trigon influences, but I have come to realize that you can't cure your genetics.

Later that night I was getting ready for bed, after I once again made Richard promise me, he would not share what I had just told him with the others, including my new diagnose. I told him that I needed time to come to terms with it and everything else that came along with it. He then reassured me his lips were sealed and kissed me on the cheek and then headed off to his room.

By now I had just stepped out of the shower and the bathroom was filled with a heavy steam that hung in the air. I wrapped myself in a towel, and then slowly wiped the mirror free of the moisture that clung to it, revealing my reflection. I couldn't help, but notice the look that was cast in my eyes, one that longed for anything that could breathe hope into my existence. I looked tired and worn out and well, I was. For seventeen long years I could feel myself sinking into an ocean of my despair, unable to tread and slowly growing closer to my final breath that never seemed to come. And now in my hand was a bottle of pills that was supposed to make all of that better?

I opened the bottle of Elavil and poured out two of the small yellow caplets and began to analyze them. They too were also round and roughly about the same size as my sleeping pills, except the texture of these were smoother, with slightly sharper edges. I also read the label that was printed on bottle it came from which read; _Take two tablets once a day._

"Is it really that easy?" I said aloud to no ear, but my own.

My emotion began to sir once again, asking echoing questions that started to spin out of control.

_"__Are you sure you want to do that?"_ Said one emotion laced with fear. _"What if they make you feel sick?"_

_"__You're taking them because you are sick!"_ Yelled another emotion in disgust as she mocked me, while another sneered in anger with. _"You can take them all you want, you'll never be cured!_"

"_You're not even human!" _

This voice caused me to look straight up into the mirror, where I could see my eyes fill with pain. Not only did it hurt to hear my own mind say such a thing, but what made it so much more revolting is that it's something that I have always secretly feared about myself, that maybe I'm really not human. The truth is that I feel as though I lack certain aspects of humanity, and because of that, I feel that I don't deserve kindness or understanding or even love. I remind myself that I am after all only half human, but I still feel as though that is not enough, that because of that I'm not whole and I never will be. I've lied to myself about so many other things, it's hard to think, that maybe I'm lying about this too and at a certain point I find it hard to even believe myself.

"Shut up, shut up!" I said allowed, "That's not true."

The girl in the mirror looked back at me and judging by the look in her eyes she didn't believe me either. I took a deep breath and fought the urge to cry and fall apart, to the point that it made my entire body ache. It's so hard to try with every ounce of your being not feel something as it burns so strongly under your skins, that it practical tears through your flesh. Most people have no idea how hard it is to hold back everything and show nothing. I find moments when it all just becomes too much and I want nothing more than to just let go and free myself from this numbness. To just feel anything whether that be love, or happiness, just something real. Instead I'm trapped with fear and sadness, but nothing more than that.

I contemplated taking my frustration out on myself, sense it was the only way I could feel anything, but thought about my promise to Richard. I told him I would stop, and I intended to keep that promise, just like he intended to keep mine.

I then looked backed down at the medication in my shaking hand and with one last desperate breathe; I accepted them as a possible solution. With a quick swallow I took them and thus officially accepting my madness as my reality and the seed of my denial.

After taking both the Trazodone and the Elavil I found that within a period of twenty to thirty minutes, that I became dizzy and very disorientated my voices still sounded off, but they became far more faint with every minute as I began to drift off. For the first time in I don't even know how many years, I was actually able to sleep soundly without even waking up. In fact I slept so well that I actually slept right through the sound of my alarm clock. I was finally able to be pulled from my near comma and managed to silence the unwelcome sound. I then sat up, but quickly became over come with a bit of dizziness and found myself very light headed and slowly laid back down. I couldn't help, but feel a bit lethargic as I laid in bed for a few very long minutes trying to overcome the fogginess that I was consumed with. I then slowly sat up again and attempted to stand up, but stumbled losing my balance and fell to the floor. After a few moments I was finally able to pull myself up and slowly made my way to the main room.

Everything was cloudy, as I didn't quite have a sense of reality. Once I made it to the main room I noticed the rest of the team going about their normal business. At first they did not notice me as they were engrossed in their newspapers, video games and one sided conversations that fell on a deaf ear. I then motioned to the kitchen to make my usually cup of tea. I remember opening the cupboard and reaching for one of my tea tins, but not having the coordination to do so, in an accurate manner. It was then a loud crash could be heard throughout the room, causing all eyes to fall on me. After I not only dropped a tea tin, but also knocked over a mug, which shattered as it hit the kitchen floor. Everyone looked startled and shocked to see me.

"Oh Raven let me help you with that." Richard said, as he made his way into the kitchen to assist me with the cleanup, leaving behind Kory, who had been attempting a conversation with him.

"Friend Raven, are you all right?" Kory asked looking in my direction with her big doe eyes.

I paused for a moment as I found it a bit difficult to speak. I wasn't really sure why, but I was having a little more trouble than I expected, processing her question. That's when Richard looked at me puzzled, but soon realized that I must have been on my new medication and answered for me.

"She's fine, right Rae?"

I nodded and slowly and began to pick up the broken ceramic pieces, though I found myself getting a bit distracted, as I looked at the pieces in my hand, not quite sure what to do with them.

"Dude, you look high, did take too much Nyquil again Rae?" Gar asked taking time out of his favorite past time to observe my odd behavior.

"I don't know?" I said confused, not just in response to Gar, but to everything around me.

"Hey Rae maybe you should go back to bed, you don't look too good, I'll bring you some tea and chew if you want?" Victor offered as he moved away from the sofa and toward the kitchen.

"Yeah Raven, I'll help you back to your room." Richard said, taking the broken fragments out of my hands.

"But," I paused and tried pull my focus to respond in a fictional manner, "but what about… my mess?" I asked through the fog that was clouding my thoughts.

Richard then cupped my face in his hands and said in a soft voice, "It's not your mess, we've got it, ok?"

I then nodded and he helped me to my feet with Victor's assistance. I could see the others looking at me just the way they would look at broken doll, as I teetered to find my balance.

"Easy Rae, we've got you." Victor reassured me.

As Richard began to walk me back to my room I could hear the others talking about my unusual state.

"What was that?" Gar blurted out, causing Richard to look back at Victor.

"Keep it down Grass Stain she'll hear you." Victor scuffed

"Hey, it's not my fault she has been acting even more freakier then ever!" He exclaimed, "and can she even hear me?"

"I do agree with friend Gar, Raven has been exhibiting very odd behavior lately, do you think she is in need of our assistance?" Kory added, but with a bit of concern.

I couldn't believe that they were just talking about me as thought I was not even there, but I couldn't even began to defend myself. One because I was certainly in no condition to do so. I could barely hold myself up, let alone win an argument with Beast Boy, which is really fucking sad that I was not even capable of such an easy victory! And second I wanted to know what they thought of me, if they really did look at me like a monster or a broken doll. Who was I to them, and did they actually trust me?

"Listen guys I know she hasn't been herself lately, but we'll talk about it later, okay?" Victor finally commanded as Richard glared back at them through his now masked eyes.

When we finally got back to my room, Richard sat me down on my bed, he then asked me where I kept my pills, then went into the bathroom and came out with the bottles. He began to ask me how many I took and when I took them. I was barely able to answer and then in frustration he called, both the pharmacy and Dr. Quinzel. Once he had reached the good doctor, he explained my condition to her in detail. She apparently told him that the does must have been too strong and instructed him to tell me to cut my dose of Elavil in half and to keep an eye on me for the next couple of hours, but ensured him I would be fine once they wore off.

Soon after this, Victor came in with a cup of tea he had prepared for me and some eggs with a side of toast.

"Here this should help you feel better kid." He said then asked Richard if he could speak with him in the hall. I could barely hear them, but I could make out enough to know Victor was voicing his concerns about me.

"Listen man, I know you are trying to protect her, but there is clearly something wrong and I'm not gonna just sit back and watch her crumble. You owe us some answers and we need you to tell us."

It was after that Victor's voice fell silent and I could hear his footsteps fall, and then fade into nothing. Once they could no longer be heard, the door opened and Richard came back into the room. He knew that I had heard a good amount of the conversation and then tried to explain, but I wouldn't let him.

"You," I paused as I tried to get out of bed, but lost my balance. Richard then caught me as I looked up at him and continued, "you can't tell them."

"Raven I have to." He said sitting me back down on my bed.

"No, you don't." I said feeling helpless, I couldn't bare for them to know that I was seeing a physiatrist or that I was now on medication for a condition I was not quite ready to except. "You promised me you wouldn't tell them. That was the deal." I said with what sounded like a drunken slur.

"Raven they'll understand and I'm only gonna tell them about you're seeing a psychiatrist and the medication, but nothing else, I promise." He said in his best effort to reassure me that all of this would be fine, but that wasn't good enough for me.

"Liar."

"Excuse me?" He responded in a shock tone as he looked back at me.

"I called you a,_ liar_, Richard." I said knowing how much, such a simple word could hurt him, but I couldn't find the will to even care.

Richard then tried to defend himself, but once again I would not allow it, as I told him to leave with what little strength I had. I wasn't sure if it was because I had finally had enough of him calling the shots in my life or whether it was because I felt that I had finally had enough of him using my weakness against me. But either way I was not about to hold my tongue any longer.

"Raven, I'm only trying to protect you! Everything I've done has been for your own good." He said in his defense.

"My own good?" I said feeling my blood almost boil at his ignorance. "Get out."

"Raven, please…"

"I said get out!" I yelled, which clearly startled him and caused a vase to shatter behind him. "And take your good with you." I sneered and let myself fall back upon my bed.

I could feel how badly I wounded him and his anger towards me, both out of spite and frustration and even some out of pain. I could also feel his hurt, which was strong and fueled by, _love_. I felt my anger almost soften, yet boil because he was hurting me out of love, though he did not see it that way.

Later that night I awoke from another long sleep, it was about ten o'clock at night and everyone in the tower was fast asleep. My fog had for the most part passed, and I could hear my voices starting to increase their volume. I soon pulled myself out of bed and moved to the bathroom, where I took a very long shower and thought about my situation. I knew by then Richard had mostly likely told the team about my depression, which was being treated with medication and prayed to any god that would hear me that he left out the more intimate details of my situation. I wondered if they would look at me different or even treat me differently because of this. It was clear by what I had seen earlier that day; they had already been talking about me behind my back. I also couldn't help, but wonder how much Richard hated me for calling him out on his broken promise and to be honest; I didn't care if he ever tried to help me again.

Once I turned the shower off, I once again looked at the girl who resided in the mirror, but this time I didn't even bother to look into her eyes, as I knew I would only see anger and resentment. Nor did I wish to argue with the voices in my head as I opened my antidepressants and took them, remembering to only take one Elavil. I knew I wasn't dealing with my problems, but again, didn't I care, I just wanted to go to sleep without my voices, without my guilt, and without my madness and that's exactly what I did.

This may not have been the push I needed to throw me over the edge, but a piece of me did die, just as a piece of me does every day. Each day I burry a newly deceased part of me, alongside the rest of the once living fragments of who I am, (or who I was,) where it to, will lie and decay. Infecting me with the same illness that had helped kill me a hundred times before and tomorrow it would subdue another dying piece of me. The question is, how long before there are no more living parts of me left to be killed?

**_A/N: That's chapter seven, (sorry it was a bit long,) please review, and get ready cause Raven is going to meet her new doctor in the next chapter._**

**_Also I just edited the first 7 chapters and now have a pounding head ache lol so I'm hoping to finish editing the rest later :)_**


	8. Chapter 8

**_A/N: Hello you guys, I hope you are all doing well. First off I have to thank JuneGrayson and Nano1012 for point out some spelling mistakes and bringing them to my attention. I am now aware that I mix up 'sense' and 'since' that being said I am can now fix itJ. Also I have a little question for you guys and I really would like an answer. Now admittedly I know that as a character I tend to lean a little more on the comic book persona of Raven, but I do love the animated version as well, because as we all know she has more personality and that is why am trying to write her from middle of the two. Now the question is am I doing that? Can you see Raven writing her own journal entries and using the dialog I give her, or am I totally missing the mark? Please let me know what you guys think about that. Quick heads up this chapter is going to get a bit deeper so the subjected matter may be a little heavier in areas. I do not own teen titans or any lyrics from Bella Morte, there._**

**_With love_**

**_Ophelia_**

**Chapter 8**

**As the Reasons Die**

_Here is life; it's not that I don't care_

_It's that I can't remember a time before_

_A life went passing be me leaving only questions; here is life_

_And what I've lost means more with every passing moment_

_The sands within are growing thin_

_And still I search to find the reasons why_

_-Bella Morte_

**(Entry taken from the Journal of Raven Roth)**

**As the reasons die:**

I have many reasons as to why I do what do and these reasons have ultimately helped shape me into what I have become. Now the question is, can I overcome them?

That is the question my new doctor has me facing and after meeting with him I have a lot to report. Shortly after I had finished my entry from earlier, one of the nurses approached me followed by one of the orderlies, who she introduced to me as Joseph. He was a very tall, older man with a broad build, dark wavy hair and glasses. At first I found myself very intimidated by him, as he towered over me in his great stature. The nurse then explained that Joseph would be escorting me to the medical ward where I would be meeting my doctor.

I was very nervous, not just because I was about to meet the person who could either make or break me, (which if this doctor was anything like Dr. Quinzel I might as well take up residency here.) However this was not the only thing that gave me an uneasy feeling. I had never been to the medical ward and well, the term, "medical ward" sounds not only very sterile, but also very cold and unwelcoming. I think this has partially to do with my distaste for hospitals. I've always had an under lying fear of them, which I think has to do with both my empathic abilities and my interest in classic horror and literature, but mostly my empathic abilities. In every hospital you will always encounter heavy, overwhelming emotions, these emotions can vary from the type of hospital one may find themselves in or even the given circumstances taking place around them. In the case of a psychiatric hospital there are not only strong feelings of sadness and loss, but also; fear, anxiety, self-loathing, frustration, a strange sense of neuroticism, obsession, depression, aggression and above all else hopelessness, just to name a few. The sad part is that most of these emotions aren't even genuinely mine; they belong to my fellow patients who can't help, but press their unstable emotions upon me. I'm aware that they don't know any better and even if they did there is nothing they could do to stop it. Because I am an empath, I attracted people who are in need of a, "healing touch," however I'm in no place to offer any assistance, even if my powers were functional. The only thing they are any good for at this point is picking up the more radical emotions of others, and I have to say, that is more of an inconvenience in a place where people almost feel too much.

In any case after the nurse left, Joseph showed me to the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor. The first part of the elevator ride was a bit awkward, I was of course doing my best to be as shut down as possible and I think Joseph felt sorry for me as he asked me out of nowhere, "This is your first time in a hospital isn't it?"

"Is it really that obvious?" I responded, not taking my eyes off the illuminated buttons.

"No, not to most people, I've just been here long enough to see it." He said in his low base voice.

"Anything else you can see?" I asked not really thinking of what I was saying.

"Yes."

"Like what?"

"Like, the food here isn't very good." He said, cracking a smile and looking over at me.

At this I couldn't help, but laugh, which I now realized was Joseph's intension from the get go. As it turned out he is actually a very kind man, with a well, rather odd sense of humor, which helped me feel a bit more at ease with my surroundings. He went on to describe to me in some detail, the way things work around here, that I was unaware of. One of which is the floor lay out.

There are in all five floors; the first floor is basically used as a counseling center where people can be treated on an outpatient basis and seek professional help. This is where I use to see Dr. Quinzel, so for the most part I was aware of the business that went on there.

The second floor is for rehabilitation and is what's known as the, "open unit." Though ironically Joseph has told me that all the doors are locked, but back to the point. Patients there are considered low risk and are mostly there on their own admission. The idea behind the open unit is to create as close to a normal environment as possible, to make the patients transition into the next step of their recovery more successful. (I bet their allowed to have pens.)

The Third floor is used for crisis stabilization; this floor is where they keep the patients who are considered a danger to themselves or others. Such as; those on suicide watch, or are suffering from psychosis and even prone to fits of rage. Also I've noticed some of these patients are extremely damaged, due to neglect or abuse they have suffered, whereas other have just refused to take their medication and are now in a complete state of mania and must stay there until they are mentally stable enough to be transferred to the open unit. It is because of factors such as these, that these patients are considered dangerous and is the reason the floor is very secure. This floor also has a ward none as the, "isolation ward," where they keep some of the more extreme patients. I myself was kept in isolation for the first few days of my stay. You are basically placed in a room with pretty much nothing, but a bed and I table and no door. I was not allowed any visitors, because they felt I was too unstable to handle them, (and they were right.) I was also not allowed to leave my bed, unless I was to use the bathroom and was watched or looked in on constantly. I have since been moved to what is known as the, "medium ward," which means I'm still a threat to myself, but I have come out of the more extreme end of it. This floor is known as the crises unit and is now my current home address. (Lucky me.)

The fundamental difference between these two floors is that those of us in the crisis unit are what I like to think of as, "teetering on the edge," and that is exactly what we are doing. For example I could not promise that if given the opportunity to jump off the subliminal ledge that I wouldn't, in fact I'm pretty confident I would and I think that most of the of my fellow patients would say the same in one way or another. Whereas the patients of the open unit have either come off the ledge or have lost their will to jump. Unlike I who is still very much peering over, waiting for the right moment to fall and all I can do is wait and see if I can morally be talked down or lose my will to jump.

The fourth floor is known as the "medical ward," it is where patients are taken to receive medical care if need be. This is also where they preform neurological treatments such as; transcranial magnetic stimulation, vagus nerve stimulation and what is probably the most popular, Electroconvulsive Therapy, better known as ECT. For anyone who is unaware of what ECT is, it is administered by using electrical current to induce seizures for what is known as, "therapeutic effect," though it's mechanism of action is still unknown. It is commonly used to treat bipolar, depression and other mood disorders, and even schizophrenia on occasion, thought the remission rate for schizophrenics is very short term in most cases. There is still a lot of conflict on the effects of ECT by experts in the psychiatric community; this is mostly due to the high risk side effects and unknown mood of action. If you're wondering how I know so much about ECT, it's because Dr. Quinzel suggested that I consider looking into it as a possible option to treat my depression. Though I never really considered ever having the procedure done, I did look into it, but decided that the risks were too high and the success rate to low. Not to mention my condition has everything to do with my biology and unless they make a pill for, "my father is the devil," I don't see there being much of a cure.

Now I know that I said there were five floors, but now that I recall, Joseph never told me what the fifth one is used for. I'm not sure if he just forgot or if he maybe ran out of time to tell me what goes on up there. However I did notice that there wasn't a button in the elevator for the fifth floor. I wonder what that is all about?

Once we arrived in the medical ward, Joseph checked me in and told me to take a seat while I waited for, "Dr. Graves." _Dr. Graves, _I thought in a moment of dark humor, _isn't that a bit ironic given the circumstances. _I then took a seat and waited for whoever had the fun filled task of having to explore the manifestation my madness. I couldn't help, but flashback to my pervious experiences waiting for Dr. Quinzel down on the lower floor. Wondering what half-baked advice she had for me during our, "much anticipated" sessions and how she would find a new way to make me feel ashamed of myself, or even better try to increase my medication.

After a period of 10 minutes, which felt like an eternity, a man appeared from the hallway and approached me. He was a bit young looking and was roughly about the same age as Dr. Quinzel. In my head I had pictured a much older man, armed with a clip board and a bad attitude, because he had clearly been doing this job for far too long, but that just wasn't Dr. Graves. He was tall with blue eyes and dark, shaggy, coal black hair and to my surprise, I actually found him attractive. I guess at the least if he can't help me, then at least I'll have something to look at. (Great time to start thinking like a teenage girl Raven.)

"Raven?" He asked, once he was about a few feet away from me, I then slowly raised my hand in disbelief.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Graves and I'll be handling your case from now on." He said in a pleasant voice and held out his hand.

I then took his hand as he gripped it in a firm hand shake and muttered a, "nice to meet you," then followed him to his office, where I assumed I would be encouraged to share my most personal thoughts. The walls of the medical ward halls were stark white, with little color and just as sterile as I had imagined. While we walked these cold hall ways, Dr. Graves began to ask me some generic questions about my stay, and how I was feeling. I really didn't respond to his questions and mostly just answered with, "It's ok," and, "I've been better," you know the usual brush offs I tend to use, since I'm not really one to over share. Once we got to his office he told me to take a seat as he sat down at his desk and opened my file. After a moment he looked up at me as I sat quietly, looking away from him still withdrawn and very distant.

"So Raven, can I get you anything, like coffee for tea?" He asked with a slight smile.

_Tea?_ I thought, snapping my attention back to the doctor. "Tea would be nice." I said accepting his offer.

"Alright, I have earl gray or English breakfast?" He said as he walked over to a small cabinet off the left hand wall.

"Um, early gray please, with just little bit of milk and sugar." I said in a soft, shy voice, but relieved that I would get to indulge in one of the small, mundane luxuries of my day to day life.

Dr. Graves smiled and began to prepare my tea, as he was doing so; he began to ask me a few more questions.

"So you were being treated by Dr. Quinzel?" He asked rolling up the sleeves to his dark blue button up.

"Yeah, I started seeing her last year, but I stopped a few months ago." I replied, as I looked around at the white walls around me. His office was very basic and cold, only possessing the bare essentials such as; a desk, filing cabinet, a few chairs and a small refrigerator. I couldn't help, but wonder if the lack of personality was a direct reflection of Dr. Graves, or if he just liked to keep things simple.

"Why was that?" He asked, as he poured a thin stream of milk into a mug.

"Because I think she was trying to kill me." I said forgetting myself, and clearly not thinking my answer through.

Dr. Graves stopped what he was doing and looked at me for a moment, as it was clear he was not expecting my answer to be so odd or bold for that matter.

"Um, that was a joke, but um, I didn't really trust her and to be honest I don't think she ever really helped me." I said trying to recover from my momentary lapse in judgment.

"You seem a bit uncomfortable may I ask why?" Dr. Graves inquired while handed me the cup of tea I requested.

It was then I noticed that he had a rather large tattoo on the palm side of his right forearm, of an anatomically correct human heart, and from what I could tell, had a clock, marked in roman numerals, burned into it. I know it sounds gruesome, but in its own garish way, it was actually quite lovely. The image was very detailed and looked to have been executed by someone of a high caliber. I could tell just by these factors that it wasn't some random doing; it had been well thought out and obviously represented something very important to him. A meaningful scar for something he chose not to forget.

"Nice tattoo." I said which caused him to look down at it a bit embarrassed. He then rolled down his sleeve and began to move toward his desk.

"Sorry about that, I try not to let my patients or fellow colleagues see it." He said in an apologetic fashion.

"It's fine, it's really well done, how long have you had it?" I asked a bit more inquisitively then maybe I should have let on. But I knew there was a story behind, in fact, I could feel it.

"Um, a long time, so you stopped seeing Dr. Quinzel, did you consider seeing a new doctor?" He asked in an attempted to trying and change the subject.

"No."

"Why was that?" He asked looking down at my file.

"Because I hate shrinks, nothing personal." I said taking a sip of the god sent that was my tea.

"None taken, I'm not a psychiatrist, I'm actually a psychologist." He said looking up with a slight smile.

"What's the difference?" I asked, gesturing my hand in a bit of a rude fashion.

Dr. Graves gave a small laugh and began to explain, "Well a psychiatrist has a degree in medicine, whereas a psychologist has a doctoral level degree in phycology."

"So you can't prescribe medication?" I asked, in a curious voice, narrowing my eyes.

"Nope."

"Good." I responded in a short manner, causing Dr. Graves to raise an eyebrow. "So then if you're not a psychiatrist then what do you do?"

"I personally, am a clinical psychologist, who specializes in the behavior of adolescents and young adults. My job is to observe and diagnose then upon my findings provide treatment to help my patient become more aware of their well-being."

"In a nutshell?" I replied in my usual tone, not taking my eyes off him.

"In a nutshell," he said with a nod and cracking a smile, to which I lightly smiled back.

"Why is your office in the medical ward?"

"Because I'm here only temporally, with the hospital being as under staffed as it is I'm only here short term." He replied, which explained why his office was so basic, and lacked personality; he wasn't going to be inhabited for long.

"So how long have you been a psychologist for?" I said taking another sip of tea.

"You asked a lot of question," he said with a look of disbelief, "you don't trust me do you?"

"No, I don't." I said in a low, but honest voice.

"Why, is it because you don't trust many people?" He asked as I now realized that he had just turned the tables on me and now I was at the receiving end of his questions.

"Um, I guess I don't, but I have good reasons for it." I said a little defensively.

"I don't doubt that you do, but I want you to know that you can trust me and I'm not here to judge you." He said in a reassuring voice.

The problem with his statement is that in all honestly his job is to judge me, that is what he does for living, he judges people. Though he may do it out of fact, from information that he gathers from his patients, and though his opinion may be professional, it is just that, an opinion. The difference is his is backed up by a doctoral level degree and clinical knowledge about human behavior. Also his opinion of me will determine whether I go home and how long I will have to stay here. I'm not saying his opinion is not valid or worthless; in fact his opinion matters more than mine, and that's actually very frightening to think about.

"How am I supposed to trust you when I don't even trust myself?" I asked without thinking as though my answer was instinct.

"So you feel as though you can't trust yourself?" He asked, writing something down in my file.

"Hey, you didn't answer my question, how do know I can trust you?" I asserted.

He laughed a bit then said in a humored voice, "Because everything you tell me is confidential and I can help you learn to trust yourself."

"Do I have to learn to trust you over night, because we just met and I don't like to rush into things?" I said jokingly, but I was serious, I really couldn't just bring myself to trust someone I didn't know.

"Of course not, I can see trust is something you don't take lightly, and my job is to help you understand that. You just have to let me." He said with a smile and then continued. "So tell me, what is your relationship like with your parents?"

"My mother's dead."

"Oh," he said with a shocked expression on his face, "I'm so sorry, it didn't say anything about your mother in your file, how long since she passed?" He said slightly embarrassed.

"There's a lot about me that isn't in that file," I said a bit short; there was a slightly uncomfortable pause between us. I Think Dr. Graves was a little embarrassed about my statement and wasn't trying to make me feel like number. I then took a deep breath and said closing my eyes, "and she died when I was about 14 years old, but I really don't want to talk about it." I said with a sigh, trying not to relive the memory.

"Of course, we don't have to discuss anything you're not ready to." He said with a very concerned look in his eyes. However I felt that there was something about my dead mother that struck a cord with him and led me to believe that he may have understood me more then he wanted me to know.

"And while we are at it, I "don't" want to talk about my father either." I said, shooting down the idea before it could even have a chance to take breath.

"No problem." He said quickly.

"Ever." I said sternly, even though I knew that both my mother and my father have a lot to do with the way I am. I also realize that by not face it for as long as I have, has helped to shape me into the mad girl that I am today, but I don't know if that can ever be fixed.

"Alright no parents, but if you change your mind…"

"I won't." I said cutting him off. Oh how bliss is ignorance right?

"Okay, then," He said taking a deep breath and writing something down in my file again. "So why do you feel you can't trust others then?" He said moving the conversation forward.

"Because whenever I do trust someone with something that I…" I then paused and took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, "I just feel like when I share something with someone, I'm giving them a piece of myself and then they use that piece against me. If that makes any sense?"

"It makes perfect sense, you feel betrayed by those you trusted with your secrets," He said pointing out the obvious, "but do you also feel as though what hurts you the most is that part of you, which you confided in them, like they're using your weakness against you?"

_Holy shit! Did he just say that? _I thought loudly in my head, _did this guy just completely understand my metaphor and not miss the point! _"Yeah," I said very surprised, it's not often that others understand my bazar metaphors in their complete form.

"You look shocked?" he said.

"You actually understood me?" I muttered, still a little dumfounded.

"Yeah, I'm actually good at my job." He said with a smirk. "So you feel like those you trust with these, _"parts of yourself,"_ use them against you, how so?"

I was still a bit shocked, but then gathered myself, and answered his question. "Like for example my friend Richard found out about my," I paused again because I didn't really want to say it, in fact I haven't even had the nerve to write it in any of my journal entries.

"Raven are you alright?" He asked with a concerned glare in his eyes.

"He found out about something I'm not particularly proud of." I stated, trying to recover.

"And what would that be?" Dr. Graves asked knowing that I was clearly trying to hide something he thought was rather important, (and it was.)

"I'm gonna go ahead and plead the fifth." I responded tightening my posture.

"Yes, but if you ignore it, it will never get better and if it doesn't get better then you can't heal." He said in a grim voice.

"I'm aware of that, but I'm not ready to talk about it." I insisted and I wasn't. I had spent years hiding this part of me from everyone I cared about, (except for Richard of course,) and the truth is I hate it, I really do. Its manifestation is nothing I bear with pride and I fear other's reactions to it because I know it's wrong, yet at the sometime I'm also every protective of it. It is _my_ secret, for _my_ eyes only, much like these journal entries.

"Raven by not addressing it your giving it power over you and your letting it rule your life. I also know that it's a sensitive issue for those who struggle with it and I promise I'm not going to judge you." He insisted, looking into my eyes, which revealed to me that he could see right through the barrier, which I hold up to keep people from seeing the more vulnerable sides of me.

"You already know, don't you?" I said, but it wasn't really as much a question as it was a statement.

"Yes I do, it's part of the reason you were admitted involuntarily." He said grimly, but more in reaction to the state of devastation I was clearly drowning in.

I could feel myself fall from my body as I was hit with a wave of reality and crashed hard against its rocky shore. Like I had written previously, I had a suspicion that _my_ dirty little secret was by now, only a secret to myself and I was right. I wasn't really sure what to say and I certainly was not ready to face it. Just the conformation that everyone I cared about most, now knew what I hid under my shirt sleeves and arm stockings was enough to make my emotions began to stir and sound off even louder.

_"__What they must think of you now?"_

_"__They are probably disgusted with you and what you did your body."_

_"__Did you really think you could keep them the covered forever you foolish girl?"_

_"__You're just like her, you know. Like mother, like daughter."_

They spoke, taking their turns to mock me at my very core. I could see Dr. Graves looking at me with concern as I was clearly having an inner crisis.

"Raven are you alight? He asked analyzing my facial expression and body language.

"See what I mean, everyone found out about my indiscretions and they used them to help put me here." I said stumbling over my words in defeat.

"No, you attempted to take your own life and that is what put you here." He said in an upfront voice.

"That was a bit harsh," I said a little shocked, but I couldn't really blame him for it. I know how stubborn I can be. I can say with confidence that I was not making his job any easier by beating around the metaphorical bush. "So you think I belong here?"

"I wouldn't say _"belong here"_ Raven, but you do need to be here for now." He said softening his tone a bit, I could sense that he was sorry for being a little too honest with me and confirmed it by saying, "And I'm sorry for my brashness, but you're a very smart girl Raven and I know, that you know, exactly why you are here. I think you are logical enough to take responsibility for your actions and because of this I'm not going to treat you like a child."

I was taken aback by his statement a bit and was a little surprised by what he had just said. He wanted me to take responsibility for myself and he wanted me to be the adult he suspected me to be. This was a bit of a awake up call for me, mostly because I sort of realized that, though I have always been very mature for my age, I always had these parts of me that still had a childlike quality to them. Like some of my emotions, for example; Fear has always maintained a very childish manner. Mostly because I don't think she ever really progressed passed the fearful little girl I used to be. I think this is because when I was that little girl, Fear and I spent a lot of time together, I was constantly reminded of what I was and also who my father was. So because of this, Fear always clung to the passed and never really learned to overcome herself. This can also be said for Anger, though she is by far not as regressed as Fear, she still holds the ability to throw tantrums, much like a child and handle herself in a very immature fashion. To be perfectly honest I myself as a very, _fragmented_, whole, have not acted like a, _mature adult_, in the past year to say the least, and I now realize that maybe I'm not the adult that I think I am.

"Is it possible your giving me too much credit?" I asked.

"Only if I'm wrong, that you are in fact capable of taking responsibility for your action and I'm confident that you are. So Raven, where's my question, am I wrong about you?" Dr. Graves asked as though he were challenging me.

I paused and looked away from him, I could either accept that my sense of self was lost and I could now attempt to fill the void. Or I could follow Fear's example and not progress beyond the frightened little girl, who still couldn't sleep at night.

"I'm an extremely self-destructive girl, I do things to myself I'm not proud of and I hide behind the closed doors of my bedroom, so that no one can see it, but most importantly so that I don't see it. I took all my sleeping pills because I felt helpless and I was tired of feeling like my heart was being ripped out on daily basis. And I do want to get better, but I don't know if I can?" I said trying to put on a brave face, of which I feel I just fell short.

"That was a very honest and mature answer and if you keep going in that direction you will get better." He said with a softened facial expression.

"So what happens next?" I said in a dull tone, I wasn't really sure if I believed him, even though I wanted to, but I figured at this point I didn't really have anything lose.

"So from here I want to get you into a group session and I'm going to meet with you again tomorrow at about the same time and we will work on getting to the root of your trust issues. I'm also hoping that by weeks end we may be able to have you transferred to the open unit. But don't quote me on that, because I'm not going to sign off on it till I feel that you're ready."

"Wow the open unit, so there is hope for me?" I said a little wide eyed and sarcastic.

"There is more than hope for you; you just have to want it." He said with a smile. "Well Raven I think that's enough for today, I'll walk you back up to your ward."

"Oh Dr. Graves, I have one more question for you" I said, as he rose from is chair.

"What, you haven't asked me enough questions for one day?" He said jokingly and smiled.

"Well, I just need to ask you this one thing, it's important I promise." I said lightly.

"I suppose I can let this one slide." He chuckled and began to move toward the door.

"Do you believe that people can die more than once?" I said, knowing that my question was vague and very grim, but very valid. Because if Dr. Graves could understand this question without having to ask me what I meant or judge me for asking such a thing, than maybe he really could help me, and that maybe there really was hope.

He then stopped and looked back at me, the look on face was different than any facial expression he had displayed before and his eyes began to cast a murky empathy that provoked a look of memory with in them as he said glassy voice, "Yes I do."

**_A/N: For those of you who have beared with me through not only this chapter, every chapter thank you, it was not easy to write and I hope that you guys enjoyed. I know this a very difficult subject and I'm trying to be as realistic as possible, while writing it with as much respect and integrity as I can. I'm also aware that this story is not for everyone and that's why I'm thankful for those of you who are following and add it as a favorite. The next chapter going to be a bit different and I think that some of you have been waiting for it. Thanks you guys fucking rock! –Love Ophelia_**


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N: Hey guys so I would like to thank those of you who read the last chapter and showed your support. I know it was heavy and was hard to at times so thank you reading on. I can't even began to tell you how nervous I was to post chapter 8, but it had to come out and like every chapter I think it was worth it. So I am happy to be posting this chapter, it's a bit lighter and I know some of you have been waiting to for this part of the story. Thanks to all those who have reviewed that last chapter and special to GrnDy13, for you're kind words and encouragement. I'm glad that you can see where this going and that you really can relate. Also thanks to Nano1012 for being the only person to answer my question about how I am writing Raven lol. But I love you all anyway and I don't Teen Titans!_**

**_With Love_**

**_-Ophelia_**

**Chapter 9**

**Who Are We?**

_If to suffer is holy  
I'll take my share of the pain  
I can swim through this sadness  
If there's something to gain  
I can reach for the surface  
And try to pull myself free  
But the last thing I want is  
To drag you down here with me_

_-Assemblage 23_

**(Letter Addressed to Wayne Manner to One Bruce Wayne**

**From One Richard Grayson)**

Dear Bruce:

I know I haven't written in a long while, but after seeing you at the cemetery the other day, I have come to realize that I have spent so much time trying to find out who I am outside of your shadow, that I never really consider who I would be without having been there. It's because of you that I am strong enough to lead my team and it is also because of you that I am strong enough be a hero In the first place. I owe you more than I could ever repay you and for that, I thank you.

With that said I must also inform you that I was not apologizing for the tears I shed at the grave site. I know very well that even though you do frown on the idea of grown men crying, you also know there is an appropriate time for it. What I was apologizing for, was all the things I said and have not said in the past years. I know that as much as you will not admit to your wounded pride, that my leaving did hurt you and for that I am sorry. However I am not sorry I left, because if I had stayed in Gotham, then I would not be the person that I am today. And even though I am not perfect, I have gained a lot from my experiences and I wouldn't change them for the world. But most importantly, through those experiences I have also gained friends that I would have never had the chance to know otherwise.

Which brings me to this, I need a favor. Now before you get mad and throw this letter in the trash, I meant everything I wrote before this. I really am sorry; I know I betrayed you and I really do appreciate everything that you ever did for me. You were a father to me when I needed one most and now I need your help. You implied that Raven meant more to me then I let on and you would be correct. The truth is I don't know what I would do without her, and I really want to help her, but I just don't know how. Last year I saw that she was struggling with her inner demons and I made her go see a psychiatrist. However I think my forcing her to go only pushed her way from me. I was only trying to look out for her and it's hard not to because she hardly ever looks out for herself. She is too worried about the rest of us and making sure that we are safe from her. I've told her time and time again that we are a team and we will face the worst together, yet she still choses to face it all alone.

The sad thing is, there was once a time when she trusted me more than anyone. We would talk on the roof of the tower for hours, just the two of us. I told her about my life before I even knew you and she told me about who she really was, or at least who she wanted to be, but that all slowly changed. Before I knew it she began to shut me out. I promised her that I would not tell the others about her seeing a doctor or her depression, but after she began to take antidepressants, I couldn't keep those secrets without possibly hurting the team. I knew they were going to find out one way or another and they began demanding answers for her odd behavior. I know that it was not my place and that betrayal nearly destroyed our friendship. I know realize that I pushed her too hard, by trying to help her I only made her lose faith in me as leader and as a friend. I can't tell you the guilt I feel over her situation, she and I had an explosive argument the night she tried to kill herself. I said something's to her that I never should have, but to try and understand her reasoning is something I could not wrap my head around and to be honest I still don't. However I still can't help, but feel that maybe this is my fault or at least partially my fault. I keep trying to tell myself that it's not, but I can't say for certain that she wouldn't have done what she did if I had just kept my mouth shut. But that is how I feel.

I know what I said was only out of concern for her, because I care about her and I hate to see her suffer. It kills me to see her in such pain, and I feel helpless, because I don't know how to save her this time. Normally I have always found a way to reach out to her before she sinks too far below the surface, but I'm afraid that maybe I let her slip too far this time, or worse, she just didn't want to take my hand.

Facing her for the first time was so much harder than I ever could have imagined. She looked so helpless and lost; all I could do was sit there and ask her if she understood why she was there. She actaully told me to stop treating her like she had committed property damage and she was right. I didn't realize that till today, but now that I look back, I forced her see a psychiatrist and I lectured her about what she was doing to her body. And even though I still don't condone _in anyway_ what she was doing, I should have handled myself like a friend would, instead I made her feel even more defeated then she already had. I made decisions for her that she needed to make for herself and all I accomplished was burning the bridge I worked so hard to build.

Before I left the hospital, I actually had the nerve to ask her if she regretted anything, she then told me that she the only regret she had was that she failed. When I heard her say that, I felt a piece of me die for her, and the thought that I may have helped to push her there is too much for me to bear. Truth be told, I feel as though I'm the one who failed, because I _failed her_. Not just as a leader, but as a _friend._

I know you are probably reading this with great disappointment in my actions and even though I know it is too late to unmake my cold mistakes or erase the cruel words I said, I can't fail her again. I don't even know what I'm asking you for at this point, whether its advice or something that I can't find myself. But I need something to show her that there is hope beyond this point. So that she knows that I'll go to the edge for her to bring her back.

I know I can't do this myself, and you're the only person I know I can turn to who may be able to understand what I'm feeling. I hate to say it, but I think that was part of the reason I left, because as much as I looked up to you, I also didn't want to become you and in my own way I did. I see more of you now that I'm older; it's in my obsessive nature and the words that I say. Sometimes I actually find myself afraid of how much I sound like you. I'm not saying that it's a bad thing to be like you, in fact I think I'm stronger for it, but I know that it makes me blind. I grow tired of you controlling me and being who you thought I should be. I needed to find out who I was without you and I did that, but I also swore I wouldn't be you. Alfred once said that he thought we could survive anything, excepted maybe each other and I think he may have been right.

Part of the reason I left was because when I was in your shadow, I felt like child and I knew if I stayed there, then I would never grow up, because you would never see me as anything else. I know I'm still a kid, and I know that I still have a lot to learn, but I did outgrow you. You taught me what I needed to learn from you and then I had to find others to teach me what you couldn't and that was what I am doing now, _asking for help._

I have come to realize that I am the sum of many, I learned what it meant be hero from you, and Alfred taught me what it meant to be loyal. Here with the Titans I have learned that it is alright to rely on others and life is worthless if you don't have others to share it with. As for Raven, she taught me that we learn from many, that we are shaped by those we trust and those we don't.

So please Bruce, you are in every right my father and I am in every right your son and I need your help to save her. I can't fail her like I failed you. If you won't do it for me then do it for Raven, she needs your help more than I do.

Sincerely

-Dick

* * *

**(Entry taken from The Journal of Raven Roth)**

**To be, or not to be?**

That is, actually a really good fucking question. Yes it is ultimately a question of whether life is worth living or not, if it's worth the trials and judgments, that if in the end it is all worth it? But I feel it can also be interpreted as, to be who we are, a question of one's self. However in the end Hamlet never made a decision, someone else made it for him and I know how that feels. My entire life I was constantly told who I was, what I was to become and who I had to be, but never did anyone once ever ask me, who I wanted to be. So now I must ask myself the same question, to be, or not to be? _Who am I?_

You know, it's funny how some conversations can never be forgotten and can hold such relevance of who we are. I remember this one conversation Richard and I had a few years ago. It had taken place after my father had sent Slade to give me that awful message and of course after such a traumatic experience I was unable to sleep for days. I couldn't help, but feel violated; I was still quite young and had never found myself in quite that demeaning of a situation before, especially by a grown man. I would lay in my bed at night and whenever I closed my eyes, I would flash back to the feeling of rough, uncaring hands, invasively grabbing at my body and tearing away at its boundaries. To expose my flesh far beyond the comfort of my dignity, and reveal my father's mark, as though I were nothing more than his property.

In this state I could not even attempt to stay in my own bed, instead I would take a book up to the roof, where I would read most of the night. On this one particular night, the sky seemed to cast a strange shade of dark blue that gave the moon a more dramtic background to sit against. Its silver image lit the world in a vivid hue of midnight, while the stars hung in the sky in their most picturesque perfection. It was almost portrait like as my eyes looked up to its unrivaled beauty.

I remember sitting up in the cool air, just looking up at the sky and thinking about how infant it all was. Lost in the thought that maybe, there was something out there that had all the answers and that maybe, nothing really mattered. I probably could have stayed in this train of thought all night, just thinking of all the possibilities, if it weren't for a voice that called from behind me. I looked to the stairway to find Richard exiting the door that lead back into the tower. He smiled and began to move toward me, I remember actually being happy to see him as he sat down beside me.

"Well if it isn't the Boy Blunder." I said patronizingly, and then shot him a slight smirk.

"It's nice to see you too Raven." He said shooting me a grin.

"So what are doing up this late?" I asked.

"I'd ask you the same, but somehow I'm not surprised to find you up here." He said with small laugh in voice.

"I couldn't sleep." I admitted, though it was not much of a secret. Richard had always been aware of my ongoing battle with insomnia.

"It's about Slade isn't it?" He now questioned in a slightly darker tone. There was always something about his adversary that provoked such a darkness in him, one that you would never know someone like Richard Grayson processed. And I know all too well how one person can drive you to the brink of insanity.

"Yes and no," I said a little uncomfortably, "I mean I still feel a little violated and I'm still a bit shaken up, but I'm more afraid of what happens next." I confessed, but trying not to sound defeated. "So why can't you sleep?"

"You know why can't sleep." He said still in his dark voice.

"You're worried about me and why Slade came after me, aren't you?" I asked though I didn't really need to, nor did I need his nod of conformation. "I wish you wouldn't, I don't want to burden you with my problems."

He remained silent for a moment and looked at me. Even through his mask I could see his face fall as he said, "Raven we are a team and a team sticks together. I'm not just your leader, I'm also your friend and friends, don't let friends, fight their battles alone."

"Did Bruce teach you that Bird Boy?" I questioned in a sarcastic tone, try to brush off his speech.

"No you did." He said causing me look over at him in disbelief.

"When did I teach you that?" I asked, with a furrowed brow.

"When you never turned your back on me or this team." He said with a smile that admittedly made my heart skip a beat.

Admittedly when I first met Richard, I had a bit of a crush on him, but quickly dismissed my feeling for several reasons. One because I knew that a boy like Richard would never fall for a girl like me and more importantly _they shouldn't._ I have little to offer someone like him, I'm almost incapable of feeling and I can't emotionally give him what he could emotionally give me. Not to mention Richard deserves someone who can make him better, where as I can only drag him down to the bottom of my ocean.

We then bantered back and forth about mostly nothing for a few hours. I honestly miss those days when we could just do that. Just talk about whatever came to mind and have him right there with me so that I didn't feel so alone. Most of the time I would just listen, while he told me about his life under the big top, long before he ever became Robin. It was within those conversations that I found out who Richard Grayson was.

At one point during this particular conversation, Richard began to tell me that he wondered who he would have been if his parents had never died and if he had never met Bruce. He wondered if he would still be under the big top world, among the ever changing faces of those who come and go or if he would be among those that had gone. If he would just be another face in the crowd, anonymously one of many moving through a sea of faces.

I then asked him if that was what he wanted, that maybe part of him wanted something simple. He then replied with the following.

"I know it sounds a little cold, but as much as I miss my parents and as much as I still love them, it kills me to know that if they were still alive, I wouldn't be where with you having this conversation."

His words seemed fragile and carried an echo of hurt within them, but at the same time I knew that he lived for what he had become. That his life of trying right other peoples wrongs made him stronger and gave him a place in the world. To be perfectly honest, I really don't think that Robin the Boy Wonder would ever be happy if he were just another, in fact I think he would be nothing without it. Yet I couldn't help, but wonder if the reason he craved the life he had, was because of his parents. That because of their deaths, he needed to carry on, trying to prevent what happened to him, from happening to others. Or possibly because he simply he felt that their deaths couldn't have been for nothing.

"So do you ever feel guilty that you feel that way?" I asked him in a soft voice, knowing that it was crossing the line a bit, but I figured since he was being extremely honest with me, that it was not completely inappropriate.

He looked away and took a deep breath, I could feel a sensation of guilt run through his veins as he said, "Yes, I do. Sometimes when I think about them, I wonder if they would be ashamed to know that their only son wouldn't trade his life, for theirs." His tone was haggard and a bit broken, I could feel how much it hurt him to admit that, but I could understand why he felt that way.

"Somehow I think they would understand," I said placing my hand on his shoulder, "Sometimes I think we forget that we can't change fate. Your parents lived their lives, they taught you to love and they gave you some great memories. But at some point maybe it was time for someone else to teach you what you needed to learn, so that you could become who you were meant to be."

I remember the look on his face as it fell into a state of shock. "I never thought of it that way, but it does makes me feel a bit better about it. Does that make me a bad person?" He asked looking for reassurance.

"No, you're allowed to have your feelings there is nothing wrong with trying to make sense of your life and who you have become." I said with a smile.

"How do you know all this?" He said in a questioning tone.

"Because I'm still trying to makes sense out of who I'm supposed to become." I said looking up to the sky again, still waiting for the conformation that never came.

"I can help you find it, if you'd let me." He said reaching for my hand and taking it in his.

I remember my lingering feelings for him rushing to the surface. Normally I would have pulled away and buried them under the numbness, where they would stay locked away. Though for some reason I let them linger, at least for the night.

"Thank you, but I think I need to find it on my own." I said remembering that by the light of day, I would be sinking my feelings for him and repressing any hope I had for us. Once again telling myself that I only wanted it because I could not have it and I would only get burned in the end.

It was after that we ceased our conversation, this was not a negative thing, it was actually quite normal. We would discuss what was on our minds and free our confessions that were eating away at us, and then we would just take it all in. Our silences were comfortable and even more so because this was one of the few times my voices actually fell silent as well. I don't know whether it was because for a time, I felt safe or if it was because I was actually being honest with myself, but I was able to fall asleep peacefully. So peacefully in fact that both Richard and I both fell asleep on the every roof of the tower, still hand in hand.

However the safety of the darkness drifted away, and light slowly crept in. Marking yet another day in which I would have to bury my broken heart, deep within my memory, because that was all it could ever be. Hoping I would forget the feeling of his hand in mine, knowing I could never have him. Not because I wanted to, but because that was just who I was, the girl who always wanted what she couldn't have. I knew there couldn't be anything more than this, that if I chased after it and looked away from my mirror. That the sky I looked to would come crashing down and I would once again bury my broken heart, but it was really nice while it lasted.

**_A/N: So I hope you guys enjoyed that and I hope you thought it was worth it too. I know some of you wanted to see Robin deal with his guilt over his knee jerk reaction and I hope it was worth the wait. Please review and let me know what you think. And also I had a lot od technical trouble uploading this chapters so I hope it not a hot mess._**


	10. Chapter 10

**_A/N: Ok I'm going to keep this short. When I started this chapter, I thought it would be very different from what it became and well, I couldn't find the heart to change it. But I still need to cover what I originally set out to so I'm gonna pull the old two part chapter thing I did a few chapters ago. I'm already close to finished writing part two so I'm it will be up soon. Thanks one again for reading and sharing your thoughts. Love you guys! And I don't own this shit!_**

**_With Love_**

**_-Ophelia_**

**Chapter 10 **

**Part 1**

**A Heart for a Heart**

_Oh mother I can feel_

_The soil falling over my head_

_-The Smiths_

**(Entry Taken form the Journal Of Raven Roth)**

**A heart for a Heart:**

Have you ever wondered if at one point in your life, you could see exactly where you were headed, before you were even able to see it? I know that sounds a bit redundant, but it makes a little sense. Then on the other hand, I am sitting in a psych ward, so maybe it only makes sense to me. (Well that's nothing new.) I only ask because today I think I sort of received a message from myself and I don't really know how to take it. However before I can really get into that, I should probably start at the beginning, so that if possible it makes a bit more senses then it does right now.

I was once again taken to see Dr. Graves upstairs in medical ward and during our session he asked me about my condition and if I felt as though I agreed with it.

"What do you mean by, _do you agree with that diagnosis_?" I questioned in a suspicious tone as though it were a trick question.

"Do you agree that you have depression?" He said a little sarcastically with a, _I'm really not fucking with you_, kind of expression on his face.

"Why does it matter if I think I'm depressed or not?" I asked with a sigh, "Plus last time I checked, I was a walking satire of Ophelia."

Dr. Graves must have been convinced I was crazy, that poor man. He just looked at me and grinned as he said, "It could be worse, you could be Lady Macbeth."

I couldn't help, but roll my eyes at his witty remark, though it was not meant to be derogatory. "Ha-ha, that's was actually kinda funny. So tell me Dr. Graves, what Shakespearian character rules your life?"

"That's a good question, it hadn't crossed my mind." He said looked up to the left, "If I said King Leontes would you walk right out of this office?" He said jokingly.

"Yes, yes I would," I said, once again rolling my eyes at him, "but for real, which character do you identify with?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because you can learn a lot about a person based on which Shakespearian character writes their life." I said sarcastically.

Dr. Graves couldn't help, but smirk at me as he said, "Ok um, Macduff."

"Really, the Thane of Fife?" I said a little patronizingly at his answer. I'm not really sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't Macduff.

"What? I like being the antagonist." He said in defensive, but in a playful tone.

"Yet you're still oddly enough the hero." I shot back in a dry voice.

"Yes and I also serve as a figure of morality." He said, his voice filled with a touch of pride, yet he could barely keep a straight face.

"And don't forget the instrument of femininity." I said shooting him down of his pedestal.

"Oh, you did not just go there," He said with falsely wounded pride in voice.

"Oh I did."

He then placed a more serious look on his face, and in an attempt to rein in the conversation said, "Well for real, I can relate to having to make those difficult, moral decisions and having to choose between the lesser of two evils."

That struck a chord with me; I could defiantly understand how that felt, to have to choose between that fine line of right and wrong. I could also see how in his line of work, he may at times have his own morality tested, but also having to be the figure example of it as well. Like what he was doing now, trying to help me see that it is morally wrong to take my own life.

"So then if you are right and we can learn a lot about a person by who they identify with, then is it safe to say that you feel as though you are held to unrealistic expectations?" He asked.

I looked down, and the image of rushing water ran through my head as I thought about the question. I was amazed how Dr. Graves could take my observations or questions and turn them around, and direct them toward me. In fact it's a little unnerving.

"Yes, my entire life. I have always been told who I am and what I am supposed to be, yet at the same time I'm supposed to follow this certain set of rules that is unrealistic for anyone to live by." I then paused and took a deep breath then continued, "and well, I feel like my whole life I was set up to fail, right from the very beginning. In fact I think I was supposed to fail."

"Do you mean your father set you up to fail?"

"I said I didn't want to talk about him and why would you even ask me that?" I said raising voice, unable to pull back my anger. For a moment I thought that Dr. Graves had asked me that to be cruel, but I then quickly remembered that though, he was without a doubt correct, he had no idea what he had just implied.

"I only ask because you said that you felt you were set up to fail. Well so was Ophelia, and mostly by her father. He had all the control over her and she had to obey his rules as long as she was unmarried." He said slowly, clearly a little alarmed by the sudden change in my mood.

_Why do you have to be so God damn clever,_ was the only thought that ran through my mind at that moment. I just had to get the one fucking doctor who actually read the fucking play didn't I?

"Raven, why don't you want to talk about your parents? Just tell me that and I won't ask again," he continued, trying to reason with me as I was now clearly irritated. "I just need to understand that so that I can respect your boundaries, which I clearly just crossed."

"Because I'm afraid I'm more like them then I want to be," I responded, taking a deep breath and pulling my knees to my chest, putting a clear wall between us," and I'm also afraid that because of that, I'm incapable of making my own decisions."

"I get that, you are afraid of what they are and what parts of them are you, and because of that you think you're predisposition to be the way you are."

I remained silent to his statement, even though he was right, down to the last word. However I wasn't going to speak until he asked me a question that had nothing to do with my parents. And if that meant spending the rest of the session giving him the silent treatment, then so be it. As I've learned these days, I'm not above acting like a _child,_ if need be.

"Okay, moving on. Um, you never really told me if you thought you had depression." He said realizing I wasn't going to be that easily manipulated into saying anything more about my parents.

"Yes, I think I have depression. Why does it matter if I think I do or not, why is that so important?" I said in frustration.

"Because I need to see if you can accept your condition." He responded.

"Do you think I have depression doctor?" I said almost threatening, "you are the one with a doctoral level degree in psychology after all." I said very catty, which I now realize was extremely rude of me. (Note to self: apologize to Dr. Graves for being a bitch.)

"Yes, but I'm not really sure which type you have." He said leaning back in his chair.

"Wait, there is more than one kind of depression?"

"Yes, there are many different kinds, but I'm trying to determining whether you have major or chronic depression."

He then went on to describe the differences between the two and why he was having trouble determining which one I had. For example he said that chronic depression is characterized by long term states of depressed mood, whereas major depression is a constant sense of hopelessness and despair. And thought the two share some similarities, they are supposed to be two different conditions. However what apparently makes this difficult is that someone with chronic depression can have one or more episodes of major depression in their life and where I have been depressed for a long period of time and show symptoms of both chronic and major depression, puts me right on spectrum. Making it hard to decipher which one I actually suffer from. However Dr. Graves suspects that I most likely have chronic depression and am now going through a major episode as we speak. However he stated that he needs more time to solidify his theory.

I tried to ask him what that all meant, but he only said that I shouldn't be concerned with it until he had come to a conclusion. I know he obviously does not want me to over think anything, especially without a defendant answer, but how can I not. Either way, I'm still broken; it's just a matter of which way. To be honest, I'm not really sure if which way, really makes much of difference.

Shortly after this Dr. Graves walked me back up the medium unit. I didn't really say much to him, I was too busy thinking of everything we spoke of. I was trying to make sense of things that had no simple answers and didn't have solid lines to keep them clear and simplified. That's the thing about mental illness; you can have two different people with the same diagnosis and two completely different sets of symptoms. How does that even make sense?

As we were stepping out of the elevator, I saw a familiar figure standing in the lobby, while he was having some of his more questionable belongings confiscated. His back was turned to me, but I could tell by the muscular, yet slim build that it was Richard. I paused for a moment slightly shocked to see him. It wasn't that I didn't want to see him, I just wasn't expecting it.

Dr. Graves being as observant as he is, noticed my sudden change in demeanor and looked back at me as though he were trying to piece together a one thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. I however was too busy trying to pull myself out of the slight state of shock I was overcome with to deal with filling him in.

"Raven what's wrong?" Dr. Graves asked, giving away my presents as the dark haired, young man turned, to find me standing only about ten feet away. It was amazing how normal he looked without his mask and how inconspicuous he was without it.

"Raven, I didn't see you there." Richard said with a smile and began to walk toward me. Dr. Graves remained silent while Richard walked passed him and came to face to face with me.

"Richard what are you doing here, I didn't think you were going to visit today?" I said with a surprised expression, causing a look of realization to take over my doctor's features.

"Well I wanted to see you and make sure you were okay." He said with a coy shrug, then noticed the thirty something year old man, who stood to the left of him. "Who's this?" He questioned, a bit confused.

"Dr. Adam Graves," He said with a smirk and then shook Richard's hand; "I'm Raven's psychologist."

"Oh, I'm Richard Grayson, Raven's friend," he said introducing himself to my doctor, "It's good to know that Raven finally, saw a doctor."

"Yes and Dr. Graves was just leaving." I added knowing that my doctor was smart enough to put the puzzle together and mostly likely already had.

"Well I still have to check you in and I don't think Richard is done at the security desk." Dr. Graves said in an oddly pleasant voice. You know the kind, (when someone finds out one of your most well kept secrets and they are clearly doing all they can to hold back from announcing it the world.)

Richard then turned back the security desk to finish up with all the formalities that had not been taken care of.

Once he was out of earshot Dr. Graves smiled and said in a low whisper, "So I take it, that's the same Richard who found out about you little secret?" I only responded by nodding my head in a yes motion, with arms crossed. "You really like him don't you?" He then asked a little amused.

"He is my friend, that's all," I instead in a horrified whisper, "and why do you care anyway?"

"Well, because it's nice to see you act like a teenage girl." He answered with smirk, I however remained silent; I honestly think I could have killed my doctor if given the opportunity. "Oh and by the way, he really likes you too." Dr. Graves said then turned and walked away, silently laughing to himself. (Note to self: Don't apologize for being a bitch.)

I just shook my head at him as he seemed to be enjoying my discomfort more then I think was appropriate. After he checked me back into my ward, I was allowed to rejoin the rest of my fellow, patients with Richard gallantly at my side.

When we entered the room he looked around at some of the other patients. Today was bit quieter than it had been in the previous days. I wasn't sure if it was because I was a bit more settled in now or if it was because the moon was no longer full, but it seemed that everyone was on their best behavior. Except for Jack of course.

Now Jack is in all respects, colorful and that is being polite. To describe him in a nutshell, I would say that Jack's an alcoholic, chain smoking, drug using, womanizing, fowl mouthed piece of work, imported to us straight from Australia. Now I must say that for the most part, I actually find his antics entertaining about ninety percent of the time. He is constantly going off about something, using choice words that he insists aren't as popular in this country as they should be and crossing my line of decency to the point, I'm surprised I still have one. I mean God, there are things that come out of that man's mouth that could make Roy Harper blush and that is saying a lot.

Anyways Richard and I sat down by my window and before we could even really began our conversation, who do you think plops himself down, right next to Richard; Fucking Jack.

"Hello mates, I couldn't help, but notice Violet here's got a visitor, I thought I'd come over and introduce myself." He said holding his hand out for Richard to shake.

Richard look confused for obviously more reasons than one. First of all, I don't think he was expecting some random stranger to just walk right into our conversation. And second, he had no idea that Jack's choice nickname for me is Violet; (this is because he does not call anyone by their real name.) I'm actually lucky, because most of the women around here, he refuses to as; the Hot Girl, the Other Hot Girl, the Hot Nurse, and my personal favorite the Fucking Ugly One. So yes I will take Violet with no complaints.

"Who's Violet?" Richard asked looking at me with more confusion then one could imagine and I'm not going to lie, I was kind of enjoying it.

"So you don't actually know her?" Jack said pointing me.

"That's Raven." Richard said still not catching on.

"No that's Violet mate." He said in a serious tone.

"What hell are you talking about?"

Now at this point, I thought I should probably intervene, I know how much Richard hates to be screwed with, but the look on his face was pretty priceless. "Richard this is Jack, he is a patient here and he likes to call me _Violet_." I said, pointing to Jack.

"Nice to me you mate, so what did Violet say your name was again?" He asked with a sly wit, making it quite obvious where this conversation was headed.

"Richard."

"Awa so you're a bit of Dick now aren't ya?" Jack said pointing out Richard slightly unfortunate nickname.

"Was the supposed to be clever?" Richard said with a furrowed brow.

"I don't know, are you fucking Dick or not?" Jack asked again, playing dumb. "It's a simple fucking question."

Poor Richard just looked at me, in hopes that maybe I would spare him from the wrath of Jack, but no such luck. He eventually came to the realization that he was just going to have to play along if there was any chance of survival.

"Yes I'm a Dick." Richard said patronizingly, causing Jack to display a toothy grin.

"Well good, I'm glad you've come to terms with who you are, I was happy to help." Jack said rising from his chair, then said before leaving, "Oh and Violet, your boyfriend's a Dick."

"Thank you Captain Obvious." I said with much monotone.

"That is fucking Captain _Jack_ fucking Obvious, to you love." He shot back with his witty grin. I only responded with a, thumbs up, knowing that he could play this game all day, especially with me.

I then turned my attention to Richard who was still clearly trying to make sense of what had just taken place in front of him. "What the hell was that?" He asked in a confused voice.

"You're initiation." I said dryly, trying to play it off as nothing. "I think he liked you."

"Who was that guy?"

"Jack, he is well interesting, to say the least."

"You think? Richard said with his feathers still a bit ruffled. "He doesn't do anything to make you feel uncomfortable does he?" Richard then asked in protective voice.

"No dad, he's quite harmless, the only dangerous thing about him is his mouth." I said shooting Richard a sarcastic look.

"Yeah you're not joking."

"Nope, so what brings you all the way to the local psychiatric hospital today Bird Boy?"

Richard placed I finger to his lips in a secretive motion then said, "Like I said earlier I wanted to see you. You sound like you're doing better, how are you?"

"Um, I'm not really sure if I'm doing better, but I think I'm headed in that direction." I said tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "What about you, how are you doing?" I asked knowing that this whole situation mustn't have been easy on him. In fact I could see it in his eyes and feel it in his emotions as they fell in a tangled mess around me.

"I've been alright, just trying to make sense of everything, but I'm mostly just worried about you." He responded in a softer voice.

I looked at him and smiled, I couldn't get passed the thought that I was taking away his piece of mind and I felt guilty that his thoughts were plagued with my wellbeing. Especially because I didn't even really care about it myself. It's actually quiet an odd feeling to know that someone cares so much for you and they so desperately don't want to lose you, but you just don't have the will to fight anymore. Yet because they care for you, they are naturally angry with the decision that you made. Still as much as they want to let it be known, they keep it locked up for your sake. I only know this because, I could feel it in Richards presents, that he just wanted to scream and cry all at the same time. Tell me how much he hated what I did and how much it scared him that he almost lost me. And how scarred he was that he could still loose me.

"I'm sorry," was all I could say. I felt such guilt building in my chest and my eyes began to burn with the sadness he felt. "I'm so sorry that my actions are hurting you." I continued with a whisper of shame.

He couldn't really say anything, he was to overcome with what little I said, yet he knew I meant so much more. "Raven I know you never intended to hurt anyone," he said finally, picking up his hand and slowly moving it in my direction.

"_Don't_," I said closing my eyes, "it would hurt too much." I know my words where sharp, but I just knew that his touch would only amplify the rush of emotions I already felt. Like the sharp twist of a knife to my empathy.

Richard looked a little hurt, but I think he could see why I was so resistant. It wasn't him; it was what I am, an empath, an emotionally unstable empath at that. "I'm sorry too Raven."

"Why?" I asked, slightly puzzled as to what he meant.

"For not being the friend you needed and for telling the team about your business. It wasn't my place to tell them."

I looked down at my lap, as I felt my tears starting to rush down my face, unable to hold them back. I wasn't even sure why I was crying, whether it was because I was over taken by Richard's emotions. Or whether it was because I'd been holding those tears back for so long, that they had finally found the right reason to fall, I could not be certain. I just knew that they were and it actually felt quite good.

"Raven, are you all right?" Richard asked in concern.

I was unable to speak for moment, mostly because I wasn't sure of the answer. I was caught somewhere between pain and relief, and there was something about it that felt familiar, yet it was still very much untouched. I don't know if I dare say this, but I think I felt alive?

"I'm fine; I'm just not use to being this venerable." I said wiping away my tears.

I know I have cried in the last few years, more times than I would like to admit, but those moments were blank and empty, as though they didn't possess the necessary heart to be real. I don't know why, but now it as though I had the emotional venom to make its bit infectious, so that I could actually feel what it meant to cry. "I'm sorry I don't know what's come over me; I just don't know what I feel right now."

"It's alright Raven, I understand and if you want to tell me how you feel I'm here to listen." He said in a comforting voice.

"I don't know if I'm quite ready to tell you, but when I am, will you still be willing to listen?" I asked now getting a hold of myself.

"Of course, I'll wait as long as it takes." He said, causing me to smile at him lightly.

"Thanks." I said through the muffled sound of my hands, trying to wipe away the remaining tears from my face. Their salty taste still present upon my lips, as if nothing more than a lingering memory of what it meant to feel.

"The team really misses you Rae," he said dull, yet hopeful, "they really want to see you."

"I don't know if I'm ready to face them yet." I said with sigh.

Now it's not that I don't miss them, I do, I just know that I'm not ready to face them. I couldn't help, but flash back to the incident in the hospital. I was sitting in my hospital bed, and it had been the first day that I was coherent enough to make any sense out of my surroundings. Kori was sitting at my bed side, doing her best, to make the best out of a bad situation. Victor was outside talking with my doctor and a man who I did not recognize. While Gar sat in the corner like a small child who everyone lied to, because they felt he was too naive to understand. Richard of course was nowhere to be found, he was understandably too confused to see me or even be around me, which was for the best. I know if I had seen him in the very fragile state I was in, I would have shattered even more then I already had and I think he knew that. To be honest, it would have been no different for him. To see me in that hospital bed would have made him even more upset with me then he already was and we both needed space to pick up the pieces or at least began to.

Still I sat there, surrounded by three of the people who loved me most, yet I still felt alone and so did they. The room was occupied, yet still empty, as though I was not the only person who had lost more than they had bargained for. I watched Gar fidgeting with his hands, which was something he did when he was nervous or frightened. He looked up at me and I could see that he had no idea what to say, what to do, or what to think.

Kory on the other hand, was trying to console me with her overly helpful trendies and frantic words that never came together right. I don't think she really understood what was wrong with me and I don't think she ever really did. Looking at her, I thought back to a previous conversation that we had a few months ago. She was trying to understand me better and wanted to know how I felt. Finally after about a week of her asking, I broke down and told her.

"So you really want to know what being depressed is like?" I said in a flat dry voice at the wide eyed beauty that stood before me.

"Why yes Raven, I wish to know what your depression is like." She responded, clearly having no idea what it meant to be depressed and why would she? Kory was in all respects my complete polar opposite and I didn't want to diminish her overly joyful demeanor, with my melancholy.

"Ok, just think of the saddest thing that ever happened to you and how sad and heartbroken it made you feel. Then imagine that you had to relive that same heartbreak every single day, the same heart wrenching feeling for months at a time. That is what it feels like to be depressed."

I could see that this saddened Kory as her eyes sort of lost their starriness and dulled. "Friend Raven, that is most awful, who is it that causes you the heartbreak?" She asked in her naïve nature.

"Life Star, life breaks my heart." I said in a sad tone, realizing how fucking sad that sounded, but it was true.

Kory looked a bit bewildered by the thought and though she still didn't quite understand, I could see it bothered her to hear such a statement as she asked, "Why does life do such a thing? Life should be glorious and full of good sprites."

"Your right, life should be something that one does not take for granted and lives to the fullest, until their last breath, but I don't think I have the breath to live."

That was probably the saddest conversation I had ever had, only because I was trying to convey my tragic mind to someone who clearly didn't live in the darkness, nor did they hardly travel there, but for that I am grateful. I may resent Kory a little for her beauty and the positive light she represents, but I would never wish this feeling upon her or any of my team mates, which is why I have a hard time trying to stomach my behavior in the hospital.

I remember Victor walking back into the room with my doctor, a grim look upon his face and I could tell, by the look in his eyes that I was not going to like what he was about to be say. "Hey Rae, your doctor has something he would like to tell you."

I didn't answer I just looked at the wall hoping that with any luck I'd find a way out.

"Ms. Roth I'm sorry to inform you, but due to the circumstances of your admission, we feel that it's best that you be committed to the local psychiatric hospital of observation." The doctor said in a sterile voice.

I didn't bother to look back at them; I only caught a glimpse of Gar as he looked back at me, fearful of my reaction.

"For how long?" I asked with little emotion in my voice.

"For as long as it takes…"

"As long as it takes for what, to morally reprogram me?" I said cutting the doctor off with venom in my voice. "It doesn't matter I'm going." I spat.

"No Ms. Roth, you have been remanded by the state to go." The doctor said as though he were talking to a child.

"What?" I said with a furry burning in my eyes, and then looked back at Victor, who was trying to keep the stoic big bother look on his face.

"You have to no choice Rae, you have to go." He said in a regretful voice.

I could see that those words were hard for him to say, and that he knew how much I didn't want to hear them. He also knew how betrayed I felt, but he agreed that I needed to go.

"So I have absolutely no rights over my own body do I?" I said bitterly, "This is my punishment isn't it?"

"Rae it's not a punishment, you're sick and you need help from people who will know how to help you." Victor pleaded.

"Friend Raven, they can help fix the breaking of your heart." Kory said trying to sooth me.

"Kory don't you understand you can't always fix what's broken!" I lashed out at her in anger.

She looked frighten and hurt by my tone as tears began to fill her eyes. It was quite obvious that she had been holding them back for my sake, but now seeing my emptiness for what it actually was, and the proof that not everything is as alive and romantic as she believed, only hurt her more. _I hurt her more_. By taking away that safe hold and smashing her beliefs, by proving that live isn't as painless as she thought. It was then after her tears began to fall that she left the room, unable to even look at me. Normally I would feel guilty, but I was too caught up in fact that I was about to be carted off to a psychiatric hospital against my will.

Gar then looked up at me, then to Kory who had just walked out the door. He didn't say anything, and I think he knew that there was no point; because he knew that there was no way I would go _willingly_. More importantly, he knew I wouldn't go without a fight, and I'm sure he knew there was about to be one, as he then gave me one last look and head out after Kory.

"Rae you're not being rational, this is what has to happen, you need help." Victor said in a grave voice.

Now for me this was quite an ironic statement, because on one hand, you have some like me who everyone looks at and says, "you are not being rational," well guess what, I think I'm being pretty _damn rational_. Then on the other hand, you are saying that I need to be rational, when the whole point of sending me to a psychiatric hospital, is because everyone thinks I made an irrational decision. Well again this might be difficult to understand, but I thought I was making a rational decision. Which is why I was sent here, because my rationality is flowed, so why would it make any sense to tell a morally irrational person to be _rational?_

"I am being _perfectly,_ _fucking rational_ and I'm not going." I said and turned to remove my IV. Now I have no idea where I thought I was going, or why I thought I could just get up and leave, (but hey, I thought I was being rational.)

It was then the doctor had called in a male nurse to assist in restraining me. I had now made it to my feet and needed to lean on the IV stand for support. I just remember looking over and seeing them moving toward me, while the doctor told me I was not allow me to leave the premise and that if I continue to be difficult, I would have to be sedated and restrained. I felt like a frightened animal being pushed into a corner, with no escape and no way out. I could hear Victor's voice, doing his best to talk me down, to go willingly, but it just wasn't that easy, because I never thought about what would happen if I failed. I didn't think that part through, I didn't think there would be an after or a consequence to my decision. I just wanted to go to sleep.

I became quite panicked and frantic, looking at the three much larger men as they all approached me. The male nurse reached out and placed a hand around my wrist. I remember becoming irate by his touch and swung my arm back, out of his grip, then demanded that he not touch me. The doctor then said something to the effect of, I needed to be restrained, because he thought it to be appropriate. It was then Victor shook his head and I could feel the even greater disappointment he had for me, as it surge through my veins.

I recall feeling their anticipation as they glanced at each other questioning who would make the first move. The doctor then made the order that I would have to be restrained while he administered a sedative. I don't really know what happened or how it escalated, I just remember struggling and trying to fight with what little strength I had. While their gripping hands tried to pull me down, and keep me still and compliant. I remember Victor's face and how torn it was. He clearly wasn't comfortable with having to help wrestle me down, but he wanted to make sure that I didn't get hurt and I think he thought in a strange way that maybe I wouldn't feel so alone.

As hard as they tried to keep me still, I found enough strength to thrash and claw out at them, much like a cat trying to escape the unwanted grip of a rough child. At one point when they were trying to direct me to my hospital bed. Victor, who was trying his best not to hurt me, lost his grip over me and my right arm fell free. It was then I took my free hand and attempted to swat the doctor away from me, but missed and hit the male nurse right it the face by mistake. It was during this commotion that I felt a pulling and a tear at my flesh. Once I felt the warm wet fluid run down my arm, I realized that had ripped out my IV. I don't know what I was about to do, I just remember noticing Gar, who was staring at me in horror as I stood there, covered in my own blood, with pure insanity in my eyes. It was then I realized how out of control I was and how far I had truly fallen. I knew he would never look at me the same way ever again, and that the image before him would linger in his mind. The image of my "mad scene."

The last thing I remember was someone wrapping their arms around me with more force than I thought possible. Then the sharp jab of a needle, begin thrust into my shoulder muscle. Now I know in the movies they make it seem like a person is subdued almost instantly, but well just like suicide being pretty and glamorous, that is also bullshit. Now granted I could defiantly feel the drugs starting to kick in pretty quickly, but in total it took about ten long minutes or so. At first I felt weak and things became dazed. I remember looking around and seeing my blood on the tile, while another nurse came in and began to warp my arm in dressings, trying to slow the bleeding. At this point I had no need to fight; it was clear now that I lost in so many ways. I lost my dignity, I lost my sanity, I lost my credibility and I lost it all to my dark side, because I really don't have control over myself and that is what breaks my heart the most. Because as hard as I try not to, I live by my father's rules.

**_A/N: I'm sorry my dears that this was so long I tried to edit it down, but there wasn't much I could do. :P I hope it was worth it for you guys. Thanks Nano1012 for your help in proof reading some of the earlier chapters and anyone else who reviewed it. :) Well any thoughts, questions, concerns, please let me know and review my lovelies! And p.s. Jack is based on real person I met while visiting my friend in a hospital, hope you found him as oddly entertaining as I did. ;)_**


	11. Chapter 11

**_A/N: Hey guys would first of all like to apologize once again for the last chapter being as obviously long as it was lol. I hoped it helped set up some of the history and give you some more insight as to how we go to this point. You'll be happy to know this chapter is much shorter lol. And for anyone who got lost from all the Shakespeare references sorry, I'm really into women and water and there is more to come lol. Thanks for all you favs, follows and review. You guys fucking rock. I would like to take this time to dedicate this next chapter the one and only late Rozz Williams, his music will always be an inspiration to me and though his time was short I'm glad he was here R.I.P. Rozz._**

**_With Love_**

**_-Ophelia_**

**Chapter 11**

**April is the Cruelest Month**

_It's not fair to lose it,_  
_And how... there is time now_  
_But Death is cheating us somehow_

_-Sonata Arctica_

**(Entry taken From the Journal of Raven Roth)**

**Part 2: April is the cruelest month**

"Raven is it because of what happened in the hospital?" Richard questioned, snapping me out of my dark thoughts and back into reality.

I looked back to him, unsure of how long I was lost in my thoughts, by the look on his face it must have been longer than I thought. "What did you say again, I didn't quite catch that?"

"I asked, if part of the reason you didn't want to see the team was because of what happened in the hospital?" He said unsure of how I would react.

I took a deep breath and thought of whether I should just be honest or try to protect him like I would normally do. However I didn't feel like trying to fabricate a reason that would conceal much of the truth and to be honest, I don't think my past attempts to protect him or any of the others ever really worked. So I decided to try something new.

"Yes mostly," I said watching for his reaction. His face hardened slightly, but not out of disapproval, more out of concern for my feelings. "I just don't know if I can look them in the eye after they had to see that side of me." I said placing my fingers on my temples.

"Rae, I know that was probably not your proudest moment to look back on, but your also not in the most ideal situation right now and you haven't been for a long time. I know this has not been easy on you in any way and we are all beginning to see that now."

He tried to give me a reassuring smile, but it didn't quite take form on his features. I think he sort of realized the reality of the situation and the thought sank in that things would never quite be the same. They would always be slightly altered and offset, just a day short of normal and I know that frightens him. What stung the most however was that I was the cause; the antagonist who pushed us over the edge. Driven by a catalyst who disguised itself in the shapes of false hopes and cruel hands, pretending to offer salvation, but they only led me right the end of the willow branch. I may not value my own life, but I do value my friend's lives and the good they have to offer. It is here I realize that my actions were not as rational as I thought.

"Richard I'm sorry." I said once again, though it doesn't matter how many times I say it, what I did can never be undone.

A confused look took over his features as he responded, "What are you sorry about?"

"This, you constantly worrying about me, the team having to stand by and watch this insanity, and for me." I said, and then took a deep breath, "I never intended to drag the rest of you down here with me."

"Raven," was all Richard could say as I could feel another wave of regret and hurt wash over not only me, but the both of us.

It was then Richard rose from his chair and began to move toward me. I wasn't sure what he was doing until he knelt down and wrapped his arms around me. Incasing me with his emotions, which were both comforting and frightening, but real and sustaining.

"Raven, I know you are probably hating this right now, but I don't care. I don't want you to feel alone anymore." He said burying his face into my hair.

I couldn't help but smile, then I placed my hand on his forearms, in my best attempt to reciprocate the hug. "I don't hate it, I'm just tolerating it." I said smiling through my tears.

"Promise me you'll get better." He whispered in a hesitation.

I looked back at him, knowing how much it hurt him to say those words, as they clung tight to fear, and read heavily of uncertainty.

"I can only promise that I'll try." I said knowing that I couldn't make that promise just now. I have a long way to go and even though it's possible I'm moving in the right direction, I haven't traveled far enough to see where this road is taking me. "I hope that's good enough for now?"

"It's the truth, that's all that matters," he said with a smile and pulled away from me, taking the heavy weight of emotion with him.

We continued to talk for a while, covering subject such as, how I acquired the pet name, "Violet" and what I thought about Dr. Graves. I told him that I had only met with twice, but that I thought that he was capable of possibly helping me and that he seemed to understand me better than I thought possible. I remember Richard being pretty happy to hear this, only because he thought I'd hate anyone they gave me, but he was happy that the doctor seemed to be in my good graces. I however, left out the more delicate details, such as Dr. Graves's quest to unearth my, "daddy issues," among other things.

Before he left he pulled out a new book for me and asked if I was ready to trade in one of my old ones. I picked up the book and immediately recognized it, the old hard cover volume had belonged to my mother and was quite worn from all the time she spent reading it. My mother had a love for the Progressive Era of American history, making T.S. Eliot, her favorite poet. His work was mostly published throughout the early nineteen hundreds and even into the sixties. I think what my mother loved about his work was that she felt it was unique and compelling for its time. I remember her constantly quoting him and clinging to the words that lay within the pages before me. I can understand this because I do the same with my literature, looking to it for comfort and identity.

"I picked it because it looked like you read it a lot." Richard said.

"I didn't, my mother did." I said softly.

"Oh, I can bring you a new one tomorrow if you want?" Richards said in an apologetic tone and reach for the book.

"No, I'll keep this one." I said giving him a light nostalgic smile.

We then came to an agreement that we would wait until I was transferred to the open unit, for the rest of the team to come visit me. I told Richard to tell them it wasn't personal, but that I just wasn't ready, and that I did miss them. Richard nodded and said that he understood my reasoning and would let them know that I was still adjusting. He then asked if it was alright if he gave me a hug good bye, which I thought was a bit awkward of him to ask. It wasn't that we never _hugged_, we did, but it wasn't something we did often, and was normally reserved for more memorable moments. However I could see that he needed it more than I did, so as a gesture of good faith I wrapped my arms around him and rested my chin on his shoulder.

"I'm only doing this so that you don't feel alone anymore." I whispered, patronizingly.

He then folded his arms around me and held me close for a minute, his warmth had always been welcoming and I had always found safety in his arms. "I could never feel alone with you," he said as he held me a bit longer than necessary, "Well Rae, I should be going now, I'll try to come back tomorrow, if I can," he said after releasing me from his grip.

I nodded and bid him goodbye, then watched him turn and walk to the door. Before exiting, he turned and gave me one last smile, to which I put on a brave one for his sake as he then closed the door behind him. My smile then faded as I once again found myself alone in a mildly crowed room, nothing more than another shadow on wall, among many. I sat down and watched those around me going about their daily business. It's funny how even in a place like this; people still seem to create a certain level of normalcy. By giving themselves certain tasks or activities in order to keep their lives going, to give them some sense of purpose. I think that's part of the reason I cling to my journal so much, because I want feel as though, maybe what I have to say _matters_, that all this was not a waste of time.

I then looked down at the book Richard had brought me; it brought back some bitter memories as well as a few good ones. Placing my hands on the old warn cover, I could remember that my mother was a woman defined by her eras. She knew them all from almost every culture and I think in a way each one represented a different part of her and gave her something of reason. For example my mother looked at the Elizabethan Era as a time of romance and tragedy, which she felt were one in the same. And I can't say I blame her for seeing it that way. Whereas the Progressive Era represented something of hope, that maybe some of the old social norms could possibly be broken one day.

I think the reason she was so interested in her eras was because they each told a story as to how mankind has socially evolved over the centuries. It was her way of seeing the world and understanding it for what it was. However there was something else about my mother that I noticed, she lived in the past. This was because she had no hope for the future and she hated the present, but with history it was all said and done, which meant it had all the answers. I myself am walking proof that history repeats itself, I'm not proud of that, but it's the truth.

So in horror of history, I opened the old book, which reminded me of an old friend that one may have for many years. Its pages worn from years of reliving the same stories and its words faded, because its ink had lost its vibrancy against the yellowing pages. Which were torn from many turns and its spine weak, after committing the same action over the course of many years. _It really was my mother's best friend,_ I thought peering at the haggard creases and tears that scared the old book. Showing how much she loved to spend her days reading it for hundredth time. I feel as though I'm the only person, who understands this, I know how it feels to love something as simple as a book or a poem. They give you explanations, lessons, and morals, but most importantly, they tell you what you need to know, they are confessions.

I began to flip through the old pages, being very careful not to accident tear out some of the ones that were barley being held to together by the weakened bind. I then turned a page to find something wedged in between the next two pages. I thought it strange that something would be cought there, but I tuned it to find and old tarot card lying face down. The card itself showed age and had told many of their future a time or two hundred too many. I picked up the card up and recalled that I had been missing one for quite some time now and had no idea of where it had gone to. (And this is again one of those things that no one may understand, but me, but I knew it was mine.) Things like tarot cards are personal, meaning that they belong to you and only you.

With my card in hand, I could feel my bond with it, but I then wondered how it had gotten in my mother's book. I had never actually read it before, it felt to personal, but then again after Trazodone and Elavil, there are a lot of things I can't recall and I think this is one of them. (Now for the creepy part.) I finally turned the card over so that it rested in my palm, so it was now facing me and there written in black, across the face of the tarot card was, _the hang man is a fool_. I immediately dropped the card and placed my hands on the table.

"What the hell." I whispered under my breath.

Now its moments like this when I realize I can't be mad at Gar for thinking I'm creepy, because I somehow manage to creep myself out, (and it gets creepier.)

I looked down at the image in my hand, a man inverted, and hanging by one foot, from a tau cross. His head surrounded by the light of an nimbus while his life hangs in suspense. Now most people conceive the thought that this particular card is a representation of martyrdom, but if you look at the card closely you will see the tau cross is made of a living wood as it is shown to still possess leaves. Also the man's face does not display suffering, but a look of deep thought. These images suggest, that the card symbolizes life in suppression, but not death.

I looked at the words written across it in black ink, it was clear by the curves and sharp lines of the cursive, that the hand writing was mine. However I had no memory of writing it, but like I had previously written, there are a lot of things I can't remember, (but that's another matter for another time.) The words I recognized from years before, "the hang man is a fool," is something my mother use to say. She had a lot of interesting quotes, however most of them came from philosophers and poets, and I have no idea where she came up with this one. But yet again she said a lot of interesting things, most of which, I'm only now beginning to understand.

I looked down to see that the card had been being used as an unorthodox book mark for my mother's favorite poem, _The Wasteland, _which had been written around 1922. It was a dark mysterious piece, broken down into five parts, each one representing a different phase of life. I then turned the page and began to skim through the words; I had read the poem before, though it had been years since I'd done so. I soon noticed that the title of the fourth part of the poem was circled in the same black ink. _What the hell are you trying to tell yourself Raven? _Was the only thought that ran through my mind, because the fourth part of the poem is appropriately called, _Death by Water._ (I told you it gets creepier, why wouldn't it? I'm like a beacon for the creepy.) It was then I remembered a line in one of the stanzas from the first part of the poem none as, _The Burial of the Dead. _I turned back to beginning and read through the rhythmic words. Once I turned to the second page of the poem, I knew I found what I was looking for, not because I found the line itself, but because I found this in my hand writing instead, _The Art of Drowning, a tragic end to a tragic mind, _right next to, _"The hanged man. Fear death by water."_ (Which was underlined.) (Well now doesn't that sound familiar, yeah it fucking does.)

I felt a mixture of horror, confusion and curiosity, all stirring in my head as my voices began to sound off about the message I apparently tried to leave myself. All of which, seemed to lead back to my mother, who I may say did turn downing into an art. She had led quite a tragic life and through it all she dealt with it by making some very poor decisions, which she referred to as, _"the art of drowning."_ It was her way of describing her self-destruction, she knew what she was doing, or running after would only hurt her in the end, but she didn't care. She just knew she wanted it, and she only wanted it, because she could not have it. She also referred to herself as a,_ "matchstick girl,"_ which means exactly what it sounds like, she played with matches, (metaphorically speaking.) She was like moth to a flame; she knew she would only get burned, but that didn't matter until it was too late. Because the only thing she was ever any good at, was flying herself right into the flame. It was all she knew, it was all she was taught by her mother, who drank herself to death to escape her tyrant of a husband. Leaving her only daughter to face the brunt of his furry on her own; just like I'm left to face the wrath of mine.

My mother's only escape was her journal, which she kept to document her tragedy, so that maybe if she were unable to tell her story, then hopefully it could do it for her. A tear stained, heartbreaking, sentiment, to show that she was here and that she mattered. That she was more than just somebody's punching bag, or some hopeless little goth girl, with no future and not place to go. Each entry showing proof of her humanity, after receiving her daily wounds, both physical and emotional, all in hopes that maybe someone would listen and refuse to turn a blind eye. I often think that maybe if someone had listened to her and didn't throw her aside, if I would be sitting her writing about how tragic my life is.

So now for the better question, why is the hang man a fool? Is it because he has a choice to make or is it because he lets others make his choices for him? Why? Why would I fucking write that, I must have had a good reason to write it on that tarot card in the first place, right? Was I trying to warn myself about _my_ self-destructive behavior? Because if I was, its a little too late for that, not to mention I can't remember writing it! (Thank you so very fucking much, Elavil and Trazodone, for stealing my memory!) The sad thing is I'm not even joking; those fucking drugs ruined my memory. Not only are they both known for causing memory loss as a side effect, but when taken together, they are even more likely to cause cognitive damage. Just another fucking gift from Dr. fucking Quinzel! I bet that incompetent quack thinks _manic depression_ is a fucking band!

"I'm only trying to help you," she'd say patronizingly. That's fucking rich, all she ever did was sit there and tell me how I was too over protective of myself, or go on about how I didn't know what was best for me, but she did. And God forbid, I ever suggested that my medication wasn't working, because in that case it mustn't have been high enough and she would have to increase my dosage. Or even better, add another fucking pill to my nightly pharmaceutical ritual, because the two just weren't enough!

Dear god it's as if my entire life is a sick joke? Did I miss something because every single aspect of my life is not only littered with fucking irony, but it's like a really bad fucking joke? For example; I am an empath, we thrive on emotion, it should be a life line for me, but _no_ I can't feel, I can't thrive, I can't even indulge in happiness. Because if I do, the whole entire fucking world goes to hell in a hand basket, complete with matching fucking bows and ribbon! Not only that, but my body was never meant to sustain or maintain life beyond the point of my twisted destiny, because my soul purpose in life was to die. How ironic right? To be told when you're just a child, that you were born to die. See, my life is a complete joke. How can I value it when I feel like nobody else does? Even as child I remember being told that I wouldn't reach adulthood, never mind a full life span.

I often wondered whether that meant what was thought to be my destiny or if that meant what I have feared about myself for years. That the demon in me, is actually killing off my humanity. I mean what if that is actually what is wrong with me, they don't make a pill for that! I feel the demonic part of me, is nothing more than the plague that I have been carrying around in my veins, slowly infecting my humanity and slowly killing me, piece by piece. Each day another fragment of me falls victim to my darkness, and ends up buried deep within my memory, hoping to be forgotten. Yet they can't be, as they spread the infection in the same vicious cycle that subdued them in the first place. How long can one person endure that sort of self-mutilation for, until one dies all together? What if that is all suicide actually is, just one very long, drawn out death? Nothing more than the final nail in the coffin, with no hope for the dying?

Then how am I still alive? Am I even alive? Am I that empty? What if I actually did die and this is the hell they sent me too? An eternity of torture, where I have to face my sinful decision, and also every other sinful, yet painful decision that led me here? Oh my God, that would the most ironic fucking ending, to the most ironic fucking story, it's too fitting.

And now I don't even know what I feel right now, part of me wants to laugh as I write these insane theories down because they're so fucking ridiculous, and the other part of me wants to cry because of how true they are. I feel so at odds with myself right now and I don't know how to handle it, I'm writing at a rapid speed and I need to slow down , because I can hardly read what I'm writing. I can feel myself on verge of hyperventilation, and I think I'm actually having an anxiety attack. I don't know what to do, who to talk to, or what the fuck to feel. I have once again found myself beginning to cry uncontrollably, with a rush of misguiding emotions running through me, to the point where I feel as though I'm suffocating, but I'm choking on my own breath, on my very life. And I have no idea why the fuck am I still writing this?

I think I need to go find a nurse and ask for help, because I can't keep doing this. I can't keep letting myself spiral out of control; I'm obviously not very good at navigating myself through waters like these. I can't keep sitting here waiting for this storm to pass, hoping that it will only leave minor damage. It never worked before, so why would it work now? Yet everyone thinks that I don't ask because I don't want help, that I'd rather face every monster alone, but it's not that at all, I'm just afraid that no one can help me and sometimes I'd rather pretend that maybe they can.

_**A/N: Ok my darlings, I know the end is a little frantic, but she is having anxiety attack, so I hope it wasn't written to sloppy, but let me know what you think. Please leave a review, I do very much value your opinions, and feedback, hope you enjoyed it.**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: Hello my darlings, As you already know I don't own teen Titans, but I just wanted to takes some time to thank you all for reading and reviewing, because it really means more to me then you'll ever know. When I first wrote chapter one I can say that I never thought it would see the light of day, let alone be posted for you all to read. Even once I did post it, I never thought I would ever post a chapter 12 and you guys have help bring it this far. I honestly had no idea where this was going and I can't tell you how many times I thought it would be something different, and without your feedback and support, it would have taken a very different direction and I'm glad it didn't. I know this story is hard to swallow at times, some of you have told me so, and I don't doubt it. But you know what, I can't say I regret anything that I wrote, (except for grammar and spelling errors.)Because there is a bigger point to this story that is starting to reveal itself, which is that you can find light in darkness. So really thank you, without your help it wouldn't be what is and I think it need to be what it is becoming. I love you guys even those of you who are no longer reading this. Keep up the reviews please, I love hearing from you guys and I take into consideration everything you tell me.**_

_**With Love **_

_**-Ophelia**_

**Chapter 12**

**Forget me not, for I my forget myself**

_There is no love untouched by hate_  
_No unity without discord_  
_There is no courage without fear_  
_There is no peace without a war_  
_There is no wisdom without regret_  
_No admiration without scorn_  
_There is strife within the tempest_  
_And there is calm in the eye of the storm_

_-The __Crüxshadows _

He went for a long walk after leaving the hospital; he didn't want to go back to the tower so soon. He just wanted to think and sort through the pieces of debris, that had scattered themselves around him. The surrounding world was far from quiet, as it refused to stop in the wake of this tragedy, not unlike any other. The laugher of children could be heard as they ran passed him, followed by parents that could hardly keep up. He could recall a time like that once, but it was a far away place he hadn't been for a long time. Not only was he hardly a child anymore, but he was a different person, with a different life and a different outlook. He now knew the world was a darker place then he once thought, and that endings were not always happy ones, but that was what kept him fighting. If his contribution could help rewrite at least one sad ending, then he knew that this was who he meant to be.

He now stood at the railing of a bridge that stood over the pond, in the local park and looked over at his reflection. It wasn't often that he found himself outside the tower without his mask, but when he did, he remembered what it was like to be someone else, to just be another. To not be stared at or having to be held to a higher standard, to just blend in felt easy, there was no expectations.

The water in the pound was clear and calm, yet you could not quite see the bottom. It reminded him of his mask, keeping the truth that lay beneath it a well-kept secret from the world that was not permitted to see it. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to keep his face hidden from the world so much. He told himself it was for his safety, to preserve his privacy, but the truth was he just wanted to hind. He didn't want anyone to see his vulnerability, it was part of the reason he left Gotham in the first place. His mentor knew his weaknesses and saw right through any mask he wore. He always saw that scarred little boy, who stood at the edge of that platform, lost among the panic of a frantic audience. And unfortunately for Robin, that was part of who he was.

_Maybe that is why Raven understands me so much, _he thought looking down at the image of the young man who peered back at him from the water's surface. She had always been the one to see through his brave fronts and solid walls, built to keep the rest of the team from seeing that little boy. Though she never judged him for it, Raven had been very accepting to other's weaknesses, mostly because she understood that without them there could be no strengths. But more importantly, she felt she was the last person to judge others based on their flaws.

It was still very odd for him to see her so fragile, though she was beginning to gain back some of her dark wit, she was still far from the same and he realized she probably never would be. A part of her life had ended, and now she found herself standing at a cross road, questioning which one to take. He may not have understood how it felt to have made that decision, or the demons that haunted her on a daily basis, but he did understand how it felt when the world ended. To have everything you know taken away and to be left among the ruins, with no strength to rebuild.

Robin knew that hopelessness to well, and he knew Raven's was far more bitter. She had gone through so much in the last few years. Everything from Slade chasing after her, while her father pulled the strings like a sadistic mad man and even after all that, she had to battle her almost, crippling depression. Then after all that, have her heart broken by an awful young man who never even loved her. Just the thought of him filling her head with false hopes and intentional broken promises, made robin's blood boil. He then asked himself what Raven ever saw in some like Eric Forrester, but he assumed it had more to do with what he wanted her to see.

At first he found himself a bit jealous of him, he had practically replaced Robin as the strong male figure in Raven's life. He was no longer the one who she turned to for advice or share the more intimate details of her life with. That alone tainted his feelings toward her relationship with Eric, but once he caught sight of the sadistic nature of it, he couldn't stand by and let her be blinded by the lies she was being fed. However that didn't go over well, he once again found himself losing his grip on her and all because he wanted to protect her, but it seemed that wasn't within his reach.

Once he was back at the tower, he found the main room was still occupied, just as it had been when he had left. It was very typical; Beast Boy and Cyborg were playing some obnoxiously named video game, with some equally obnoxious premise. While Starfire was hard at work cooking some concoction she called "Gwork Narg," which smelled a lot like spoiled milk and mustard.

"Hey Dick, you're back and just in time I'm kicking Chrome Dome's ass!" Yelled a certain green changeling in excitement.

"Don't listen to Grass Stain; I'm just having an off day." Cyborg called out in response.

Robin smiled at the crudeness the two displayed, finding some comfort in their humor, but didn't respond.

"Oh Dick your back, I have been most curious to here of your time visiting Raven." Starfire called from the Kitchen.

Robin knew this question was coming, he had even rehearsed what his response would be when asked, but he found himself freezing up at the question.

"It was, well… it was… I don't know." He said plopping himself down on the sofa right next to Cyborg with a huff. He just wasn't sure what to say or where to even start. He knew he couldn't give them the answers they were looking for. He couldn't even find the ones _he_ was looking for.

"Was it really that bad?" Cyborg said in a questioning tone.

"Yes and no." Robin responded in a tired voice, it was clear he had been taking the matter quite hard, as they all were, but it was deeper for him and everyone all knew it. "I mean, she seems a bit better, but she still has a long way to go and I don't think she quite believes there's hope yet."

"Well things like that take time in this sort of situation; she needs to come to terms with a lot of things she may not be ready to accept." Cyborg said trying to make light of situation as he always did.

"Have you been watching Dr. Phil again Chip Head?" Beast Boy said with his poorly placed humor.

"And you wonder why no one takes you seriously." Cyborg responded then continued, "This all has to run its course, and sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better." He said taking a moment to let the profound thought settle in with his fellow teammates. "You say one thing Grass Stain and I will shove this controller down your throat," he warned, noticing Beast Boy began to open his mouth.

"Hey, I was just going to say that I agree with you, that's all." Beast Boy said defending himself. "Especially after what happened in the hospital, cause if that was not the worst of it, then I don't wanna be around for what the _worst_ is."

The other Titans remained silent for a moment, it wasn't that they didn't agree with Beast Boy, they did, but none of them wanted to admit it. They wanted to be supportive and do what they could to help. However after seeing that side of someone, it's hard to see them the same way you use to.

"Well she said that she thought she was, _"headed in the direction,"_ of getting better. So I think that's a good sign. Though it's the only one I have." Robin said staring into nothing with a blank expression holding his features.

"Once friend Raven told me of her depression, she described it as heartbreak," Starfire said emerging from the kitchen, "she said that she felt as though life was _"breaking"_ her heart."

The three boys looked at the beautiful alien who seemed sad at the thought, as her eyes became less bright and her face lost it vibrancy. Her words seemed to cause a joint reaction in the rest of her friends, as they all could recall at least one incident in their lives, where they had felt that kind of pain. The words echoed through those memories and clung to the regrets that stood by them. Starfire then added that this was how Raven felt every day of her life, that every day she relived the same heartbreak.

The thought made Robin lose his breath for a moment; he didn't want to think of how that must feel. To relive such an awful feeling, must have been torcher, watching everything slipping away and having no control to stop it; nor the grip necessary to hold on. Then to be left with nothing, but the pit in your chest, that empty feeling, radiating with a sickening pain, because everything was gone.

"That is really fucking depressing." He said aloud, without meaning.

His team looked over at him as he realized they had heard him. However he didn't feel embarrassed, he was too caught in his head to feel something so mundane. He was just a little taken off guard was all.

"Your right that is really depressing, I can't imagine having to feel the way I felt after my lad accident." Cyborg said in a rough tone. "That day changed the rest of my life and I never thought I would ever be happy again, but then I met you guys."

Robin looked of at the mechanical man; he knew how hard it was for his friend to come to terms with who and what he had become. Victor Stone had literally died that day, not just physically, but emotionally. With the loss of his physical humanity, he also lost the life he once led. He could no longer be the star athlete that he once was, nor could he pursue his dreams of becoming a professional one. That part of his life had come to an abrupt end and the only difference was that poor Victor was still alive to witness the mourning process.

For years he stayed out of the sight, slowly becoming less in touch with the world. It wasn't until the Teen Titans, that he finally found a new place to rebuild, a place with others who also had a unique set of circumstances that made them far different from the world. They helped him to realize that he still possessed his humanity and he always would, because it wasn't those physical parts that made him human, it was what lay below them.

"So did Raven say we could visit her?" Cyborg asked.

"She said that she wasn't ready yet, she is still adjusting." Robin said in a robotic tone, falling back on the speech he had rehearsed during his walk home.

"She doesn't want to see us does she?" The green boy said a little weary.

Robin's face fell in a slight panic, which could be seen by all, as he was still maskless. "No, that's not it, why would you say that?" He said trying to conceal the deception in voice, which was difficult because his eyes were out of sync.

"Because I know you all think I'm not that sharp, but I'm not stupid and I know Raven, and I know that she is probably really freaked out about the fact that we us saw her that out of control." Beast Boy stated to everyone's surprise.

It was true, it wasn't that they thought Beast Boy was stupid, they just thought of him as irresponsible, and immature. He was constantly in his own world and hardly ever took anything seriously. Not to mention his tendency to speak without thinking, (which he never seemed to fail at.)

"Your right, she doesn't want to see you guys. She is afraid of what you'll think of her," Robin said with a bit of defeat in voice, "she feels really guilty about putting us through all this."

The rest of the team fell silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. Robin wasn't sure if they were offended or if they could bring themselves to understand.

"Does Friend Raven think that we have not forgiven her?" Starfire asked.

"I think that's the problem Kory, she is tired of having to be forgiven." Robin said unaware of the words that left his mouth. Once they were released, he froze as the rest of the Titans looked at him, awkwardly waiting for him to explain, but he couldn't.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Beast Boy asked, not quite catching on to what Robin had said.

"I don't know I'm still trying to make sense of the situation and everything that's happened," he said recovering quickly. "I'm gonna go to my room for a while, I'll see you guys later okay." He said quickly, and then rose from his seat, before another question could be asked.

Once he was safely within walls of own his room, he took a deep breath. He wasn't sure what to think of his response. Was he finally beginning to understanding Raven on the level that he had strived to, for the past two years? It made sense, all Raven ever did was apologize for being what she was and what came along with it. That had to have gotten tiring after a while, to constantly be looking to be forgiven for things that fell out of your control. Was that what all this was about, _control?_

She had spent her entire life trying to keep it, yet Robin had a feeling that she never really had it and he knew that must have been frustrating for her. He himself knew what it was like to not have control and to be told who and what to be. It was a difficult place to live, that was why he left Gotham.

He sat down at his desk and took a long breath; it was moments like this when he would find himself lost and unsure of where life was taking him. There were no clear answers, with no set paths to be taken, just dark halls, engulf in shadows, too thick to see the end. _You could always just walk away, _said a voice in the back of his mind, as there was a part of him that was not quite ready to accept the challenge. "Not even an option," he responded aloud to the thought. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but nothing ever was, Bruce use to tell him that all the time.

"_You can run as fast as you want, but time will always catch up to you,"_ the words echoed through his thoughts, like an old song. The old memory lingered as he reached for an old notebook that had been harshly weathered over the years. It was quite thick and had years of personal notes written in it. It had been a gift from Alfred, shortly after a young Richard Grayson had been taken in by his new guardian and future adoptive father. Alfred had always been an important person to both Bruce and the young boy and Robin was glad he had the privilege of knowing him. He thought back to the day he had received the notebook. Alfred told him that sometimes people feel things they can't speak, and that is why they turn to writing, to say what they can't. He then gave him the heavy notebook and told him that there would be times he would find himself with so much to say, but none to listen and that the notebook was for those times.

"This is one of those times," he said under his breath, as though he was speaking to a ghost from his past. He then opened the notebook and looked back at the first entry, barely legible and littered with poor grammar and obvious spelling mistakes. He didn't write in it as frequently as he once did, not like he had when he was in Gotham. But after turning through the years of childhood memories and forgotten thoughts, he finally found a blank page that was more than happy to express his thoughts as he wrote the following:

_So I just put my foot in my mouth. Kory asked me if Raven thought the team had not forgiven her yet, and I responded with, "I think she is tired of having to be forgiven." So now the team is probably going to be beating down my door for more answers I don't have and asking why I would say that. And the truth is, because that is just how I feel. _

_I mean it's obvious Raven is sorry for all this, she told me so herself, but I get the feeling that part of the reason she is in this situation is because she is tired of having to explain herself, I know I would be. It's not like she can help most of the things that happen to her, yet she is always the one left to give an explanation. Maybe I'm the only one who realizes this because I'm usually the one asking her all the hard questions? I don't even know if this theory is right, but I think I need to just start accepting things for what they are and stop digging for answers to things that are difficult to give._

_This is hard, I'm the only one who has seen Raven in the last week and I was there before and after she crossed the line, so everyone looks to me for answers. But I don't have them and it is really fucking frustrating. Everyone looks to me to fix this and I can't. I can only stand by and wait to see what happens next and do my best to catch her if she falls, but there is no one here to catch me._

_Normally Raven would be the person I would go to in a situation like this. Where I didn't have the answers I needed and she would help me find them. She never shamed me for being vulnerable and she never flinched when she saw my dark side. She accepts it, she isn't drawn to it, like Barbra was and she isn't blind to it like Kory. She sees it and she accepts it, she sees me. She's not in love with Robin and she's not chasing after Richard Grayson, she sees me for who I am, beyond my mask and she knows who I am without it. I can't turn away because of her darkness, it's a part of who she is and I accept it, just like I accept the rest of her._

It was then he heard a knock at his door and got up to answer it. Before he could open it he heard a familiar, but muffled voice call from the other side. "Hey Dick are you alright man?" Cyborg yelled waiting for the door to open.

Rodin opened it to reveal the robotic man, who had a concerned look constructed on his face. Robin wasn't surprised to find him there, he was actually expecting it. He honestly would have begun to worry if he hadn't come to check up on him.

"Hey Vic, I'm fine, just trying to sort things out." Robin said with a sigh.

"I know it's just what you said earlier…"

"I'm not gonna apologize for what I said, it's just how I feel" he said in a stern voice cutting the mechanical man off.

"Dick I'm not here to lecture you about it, I agree with you," Cyborg said to Robin's surprise.

"Then why are you here if you agree with me?"

"Because I know that was hard for you to admit," Cyborg began, stepping into his leader's room, "listen, I know that it's hard for Raven and life has dealt her a tough hand. Ever since we met her we have constantly told her that we accept her for who and what she is, as we do with every Titan…"

"But Raven is the only one whoever has to explain herself to us," Robin said once again cutting him off.

"Exactly and maybe we need to think about that. I don't want Raven to think that she needs to be forgiven, I want her to feel like we accept her and well," the robotic man paused trying to find the right words to finish his statement.

"And you think that we don't act like we do?"

"Yeah, but I never really realized it till now," Cyborg said with a reluctant shrug, "I know we can't condone what she did, but maybe we can try and understand why she did it, so that it doesn't happen again?"

Cyborg always had a soft spot for Raven, she was the younger sister he never had and the thought that maybe she felt he didn't accept her, didn't sit right with him. Robin recalled seeing his reaction that night at the hospital. Cyborg was out with Beast Boy, getting dinner and had rushed to the hospital once he had gotten the news. Leaving Beast Boy to find Starfire, who had gone to mall by herself. Cyborg was more than panicked and wanted to know everything that had happened, down to very last detail. Robin told him mostly everything, how he had found her, and why he was in her room in the first place. To apologies for the fight they had, but left out what the fight was actually about. Robin could see that Cyborg had a questioning look in his eye about the altercation, but felt it wasn't worth pursuing under the circumstances. He was too worried about whether Raven would live or not.

However a few days later when the doctor sat both Robin and Cyborg down to discuss having her committed, some more disturbing details were revealed. They were no surprise to Robin, but to Cyborg they were unknown and shocking, and he was even more shocked to find out that Robin knew all about them.

"What do you mean you knew!" The mechanical man yelled once they were outside of the office.

"I found out on accident and she begged me not to tell anyone," Robin said trying not to raise his voice.

"So you thought it was a good idea to just let her keep on doing that!"

"No! Of course not," Robin yelled, failing at his attempted to keep the argument from increasing volume, "I told her I wouldn't say anything as long as she saw that psychiatrist she has been seeing."

"You mean, _was_ seeing? She stopped remember? The doctor just fucking told us that!"

"Well I didn't know! And beside she said she would stop! She promised she would!" Robin scuffed trying to defend his actions.

"Well she didn't and look where it got her!" Cyborg hissed in disapproval.

"I know she didn't stop, that's why we got into a fucking fight, because she was still hurting herself and I fucking lost it! Okay, it's my fault!"

Robin then stormed off and headed back to the tower without Cyborg, leaving him behind at the hospital. By the time Cyborg had arrived home, Robin was gone and nowhere to be found. He only found a note from his leader that stated the following:

_Victor,_

_I'm sorry for not telling you about Raven, but I thought if I betrayed her trust she would never trust me again and then I wouldn't be able to help her, which I failed at anyway. So I guess it doesn't matter, but whatever. I left for a few days, I know this is really shitty timing, but I can't stay in Jump right now. I'll be back in two days, and I'm leaving you in charge 'till __I get back. If you need me, I'll be in Gotham._

_-__Dick_

Robin was true to his word, two days passed and on the second he arrived home, to find his old friend waiting outside the tower with a distressed look upon his face.

"Did you have a nice trip Dick?" The robotic man asked, in a low disappointed voice.

"I would like to say yes, but it's not like I went looking for a good time." Robin responded with a grave tone.

"Then what were you looking for?"

"I don't know," Robin said looking out to the water that held the image of the sunset in its reflective surface, "I think I was looking for answers, like why this all happened, who is to blame, is anyone to blame, and who the hell am I?"

"Well did you find it?" Cyborg asked raising his brow.

"I don't know." Robin said sitting himself down on a rock with a looked of defeat on his face.

"It's not your fault." Cyborg said out of nowhere.

Robin looked over at him and shook his head as he said, "Well it feels like it is."

"Well it's not, I'm sorry for yelling at you and if I made you feel even more guilt then you already feel, then I'm sorry for that too." Cyborg said placing a hand on the wounded leader shoulder. "None of us blame you for this."

"I do." Robin said, then picked up his suit case and went inside, once again leaving the Robotic man to his own thoughts.

"I'm sorry Vic, for not telling you about Raven and leaving like that." Robin said as they both now stood by the doorway of his room.

"I understand now, you knew Raven needed you and you were only trying to help her, "Cyborg said in his fatherly tone, "and I know why you left, you don't need to explain."

"Thanks Vic."

It was shortly after that, Cyborg left the room. Robin felt better after talking with him about what had happened in the previous weeks, but he still couldn't quite shake the feeling that was looming over his head. He once again sat down to his notebook, his thoughts had been broken and he could not quite regain this concentration. So instead he flipped back a few pages and began to read through some of the forgotten memories he had written down.

As he skimmed through the short entries, most of which were only, but a paragraph long. He noticed one in particular, which had been written immediately after the fight he had with Raven.

_I don't understand her, why would she do that to herself, to her body? Then she acts as though I'm the one who's wrong, because I can't bring myself to understand it, and how could she even ask me to? But what she doesn't understand, is that she also lied to me! She told me she'd stop and she didn't, so not only did she betray herself, but she betrayed me!_

_What else has she lied to me about? I mean it's not like we have been particularly close in the last couple of months, she's been so distant I can't even reach her anymore. I'm tired of sitting by, watching her run after rain storms and immoral solutions. I can't watch a person I love brand themselves and be fucking okay with it!_

_I remember after my parents died, I asked Bruce why bad things happened and he told me the following, "I don't think anyone really knows, but I think maybe it's because without the bad we couldn't have the good." I know that isn't an easy thing to answer and Bruce was only doing his best to give me something to hold on to, but I fucking hated that answer and I know he hated it too. Because it's hard to think that is why bad things happen, to help us appreciate the good in our lives, to justify why God permits evil. I mean what kind of fucked up ideology is that? _

_Maybe there is no balance, maybe there's nothing beyond this world? Maybe life just adds and subtracts, with no preference as to who it takes out? Is that all life is at the end of the day, time just doing the math? Whatever, I'm going to go talk to Raven now, I can't just leave what's left of our friendship to deteriorate any further. If we even still have one?_

_**A/N: Ok so that 's it for this chapter, I hope you found it interesting. I figured we needed to spend some time in Robin's head, so I came up with is this idea that maybe every so often he writes things down, so hope I it's not out of character. To be honest I don't really know how I feel about this chapter. Please review my loves and tell me what you think!**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: So I just want to thank JuneGrayson, Angstar and Nano1012for reviewing the last couple of chapters and helping with grammar, you guy are the best! I also want to thank all of you who recently add this as a fav or follow. As well as the rest of you for reading! Finally this chapter is dedicated to my friends; Stewy, Sandi and Jacob, for being supportive and reading this, love you guys! I don't own this shit!**_

_**With Love**_

_**-Ophelia**_

**Chapter 13**

**When Black Seas Collide**

_You see me through, when I am blind  
Shining on like a flame in the night  
Carry on, 'til the black seas collide  
Holding on, 'til we fade from all sight_

_-Bella Morte  
_

He had never actually been to Jump City before, though he knew much about it. Through numerous news articles, that mostly feature a certain band of young heroes, doing all they could to keep the city as safe a place as possible. He couldn't help, but feel like a proud father when reading those articals. He felt as though he really had done something right, with the young boy he had taken under his wing almost a decade ago. Though it was clear that the relationship showed signs of _deterioration_ in recent years, he figured that it would eventually fix itself. He shortly realized after the young man's departure that he needed to let him find himself. Knowing that he taught him well and that was what really mattered.

It was a mid-spring day and to his surprise the streets weren't every crowded. Still those who passed by him seemed happy and care free. It truly was a different place, especially from Gotham. The weather was clear and the sun was bright, making the walk to the hospital calming. Once he found himself outside the entry way he took out some folded papers and looked them over one last time. He then walked inside and approached the front desk.

"Hello I need to speak with a, Dr. Adam Graves," the tall stranger said to a middle aged woman, who seemed to be manning the reception desk.

"Do you have an appointment?" the woman asked in an unpleasant voice, while covering the mouthpiece of the telephone. (Acting as though just the question was an inconvenience.)

"No I don't," he responded with a shake of his head.

"Well you need an appointment then," the woman said in an awful tone. Then turned her head down to continue her conversation, thinking that it would be that easy to get rid of him.

"Well could you please ask the good doctor, if he could see me today? I have come all the way from Gotham and it's very important," he said in a more stern tone this time.

The woman only shook her head _no_, as she continued to go on about how her,_ "lazy ass husband,"_ was a good for nothing something or other. When all of the sudden she heard the phone click, which was followed by the unwanted sound of a dial tone. She then abruptly looked up to see the man still standing there, but he now had his finger on the phone hook. The woman was perplexed and annoyed, but man remained cool and collected as he said, "I said please." A sly smile that crept across his face as the woman scowled and dialed an extension.

"Yes Dr. Graves. I have an extremely impatient man here asking to see you," the woman said sarcastically, then paused and waited for a response. "I don't know I'll ask," the woman then looked up at the stranger and said, "what did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't tell you my name," the stranger said as he took on a cocky grin, "but tell him that it's Bruce Wayne." The woman's mouth fell open for a moment in mortification. But before she could tell the doctor who was asking for him, the man added, "oh and tell him Dr. Leslie Thompkins sent me."

Before Bruce knew it he was granted permission to meet with Dr. Graves, who would have normally met him in the lobby, but was apparently finishing up something of importance. Instead he gave the go ahead to have Mr. Wayne sent right up to his office. However Bruce Wayne being _"Bruce Wayne,"_ had refused too be escorted to the doctor's office. He figured if he could find his way around abandoned warehouses and unknown underground tunnels, he could easily find a simple office.

Once he reached the medical ward he read the signs that presented themselves and found the one which was marked hallway B. He then walked the long length of the hall down to the end, where the doctor's office was supposed to be located. As he neared the end he looked to the right to see office number thirteen in plain view. Once he was only a few feet from the door he could hear voices conversing in a slightly raised pitch. And of course, Bruce being the brilliant detective that he was couldn't help, but listen in on the conversation.

"You know I can't do that," said a doubtful male voice.

"Oh come on Adam, ya know she was my patient right?" replied a flamboyant female.

"_Was_ being the key word Harley," the male said patronizingly. Bruce was confident this voice belonged to Dr. Graves as he continued; "besides I really don't think she wants to see you."

"Oh that's just ridiculous, my little birds justa little shy is all. I betcha she would be happy to see me! We use to have the most interesting little chats ya know?"

"Harley, not only can I not discuss her case with you, but even if I could, I wouldn't and I'm not going to let you see Raven either." The doctor's voice was heavy with frustration and something of a protective nature. Bruce couldn't help, but feel as though the two had some kind of history that went beyond working in the same hospital.

"You know she never actually told me she wasn't interested in seeing me no more. I could always pull rank," the woman said a bit threatening.

"That would never work; I can tell you right now she told me she is _not_ interested in being under your care," the male asserted raising his voice even more.

"One last chance hansom, you can either transfer her case to me, or else." Bruce could hear the slight hint of seduction she held in her voice while still holding on to her threating tone, which didn't sit right with him.

"Get the hell out of my office Harleen."

"Then you're gonna be real sorry Adam," the woman said in a dark voice that even made Bruce raise an eye brow in surprise.

Just then the door swung open and a tall, very pretty blond stepped out of the office. Her face still holding a sadistic smirk upon it. That is until, she collided with the Dark Knight.

"Oh why don't ya…" the woman began to hiss until she looked up to find a handsome, very well-dressed man standing in front of her.

"Why don't I what?" the man asked in a curious tone.

The woman then put on a confident smile and pulled out a card from her shirt pocket and said, "Why don't you call me if you're interested in taking me out for a drink Doll."

An amused Bruce accepted the card, and read, "_Dr. Harleen Quinzel_." aloud, as the male doctor peeked his head out of his office to see what all the commotion was about.

"Can I help you?" the doctor asked with little amusement.

"My personal number is on the back," the tall blond whispered to Bruce before looking back at Dr. Graves with a look that could've killed, if such a thing was possible.

Before Bruce acknowledged the doctor; he let his eyes study the pretty psychiatrist. Not out of attraction, but more out of curiosity. There was something quite off about her, and he couldn't quite figure out what.

"Yes, I'm Bruce Wayne you must be Dr. Graves."

"Yes I am, please come in." the doctor said motioning him into the office. "So now what can I do for you Mr. Wayne?" he asked while closing the door and then took a seat at his desk.

"Well it's my understanding that you are currently treating a patient by the name of _Raven Roth_."

"I'm not at liberty to discuss whether that is true or not and even if I was…"

"You would not be at liberty to discuss her case with me. I know, but I'm not here to discuss her case," Bruce said finishing the doctor's statement.

"Then what _are_ you here for?" the doctor questioned in a puzzled tone.

"I would like to speak with her if possible?" Bruce replied to the doctor, who had a questionable look on his face.

"Now why would you think that I would allow that?" Dr. Graves stated in an inquisitive manner.

"Well because she is a very good friend of my adoptive son and he asked that I take the time to do so," replied a confident Bruce. "He thought it would mean lot to her if I took some time to speak with her."

"Well I'm sorry, but your son does not have the authority to make those decisions," the doctor said, still unamused.

"Well he is listed as her next of kin, so that does make me family," Bruce said with a confident smile.

"Are you telling me that Richard Grayson your son?" Dr. Graves asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yes," he responded, pointing to the doctor and with a sly motion.

"I still can't just allow it," he insisted. He couldn't just let anyone see patients based on random information that for all he knew was not even true. He had strict guidelines to follow and the safety of his patients to keep in mind.

"You can't, but Raven can," Bruce suggested with a sly smile that stretched across his face, "if she agrees to see me of course?"

Dr. Graves was speechless for a moment as he looked back at the confident man. He could see not only by the look on the man's face, but also by his body langue that he was used to getting what he wanted. Though he was weary to just allow him access to his patient. Mr. Wayne was not only a grown man, but his reputation was infamous. It wasn't that he thought anything derogatory about him, but the fact that he insisted on seeing a young woman, who was hardly an adult raised a few questions. "That's if I even ask her," Dr. Graves said in a protective tone.

"You really don't let anyone push you around, I respect that," Bruce said leaning back in his chair, "but neither do I."

"Why do you want to see her so badly?"

"Because I have some experience in this area, and like I said, I was asked to speak with her," Bruce responded. "May I ask you something Dr. Graves?" The doctor then waved his hand in a welcoming motion, causing Bruce to smile as he said, "What did that pretty Dr. Quinzel mean by you'll be sorry?" His voice had gotten a bit darker, causing the doctor's face to harden.

"I don't know," Dr. Graves said with his voice becoming a bit graveled and slightly upset that Bruce had obviously heard most of the conversation. "She's just immoral… and cruel," he said taking a moment to look Bruce square in that eye.

Bruce hardly reacted; he had looked into the eyes of one too many mad man to even be the least bit intimidated, but he could see the doctor's honesty. There was something about Ms. Quinzel and Bruce decided to use that. "Well how so?"

"She uses people, she doesn't play by the rules and she is the type of person who will hold you with one hand and stab you in the back with the other."

"Well then it sounds like you should look behind you," Bruce said with a dark humor. "So why does she want to see Raven?"

"She used to be her patient."

"But she isn't anymore, why is that?"

"Nice try, but I can't answer that." Dr. Graves said with a patronizing smile. "I'm a psychologist, I know these tricks, I use them."

"Well then I'll just ask her myself."

"Don't, do that," Dr. Graves commanded in a low voice, "I'll ask Raven if she is interested in seeing you and if she is then I'll allow it, but if not you are going to have to leave empty handed."

He then got up from his chair and moved toward the door and stated that he would be back shortly after he spoke with Raven. Bruce nodded with a confident grin, knowing that the doctor wouldn't come back empty handed. Once the door was closed and Bruce found himself alone. After waiting a few minutes a thought crossed his mind, causing him to reach into his pocket and pull out his cell phone. Then before he knew it, Alfred was on the other line.

"Hello Master Bruce. Have you spoken with the young lady to whom Master Richard is so found of?" Alfred said in his crisp British accent.

"No not yet, she should be arriving any moment. I need you to do me a favor. Can you have the commissioner do a background check on a Harleen Quinzel? She's a psychiatrist at the Jump City Psychiatric Hospital."

"Of course Master Bruce," Alfred responded in compliance.

"Thank you Alfred." Just then he could hear the doorknob began to turn and the door began open, "alright Alfred I have to go now."

"Alright Master Bruce. Please give Master Richard my best."

"I will, good Bye."

He turned his head to find the very small stature of a girl entering the room. On her face she wore a questioning look, as she closed the door behind her. Bruce found himself surprised; he had not pictured the girl to be so small. He had never seen her in person, nor without her cloak, which she used to hide her face. He truly thought she would have been a bit taller and far more muscular. Much like most of the female heroes he knew, but she was roughly around 5'4", and very petite. She was actually quite delicate looking. She then looked over at Bruce, giving him a better look at those vivid, violet eyes of hers. He found them quite striking as he had never seen anything like quite them before.

"So you wished to speak with me Mr. Wayne?" the girl said, taking a seat in the vacant chair that sat across from him.

Bruce watched her as she did so, taking in her demeanor and motion. She seemed a bit distant and cold. He noticed her began to tug at her violet hair, which was a rich dark shade of the color, and contrasted well with the soft, wintery hue of her skin. He thought it was actually quite funny that even in her disheveled state, she was actually quite pretty. Though she was not pretty in the conventional sense. She had an odd beauty about her that was dark and mysterious, which provoked a strange attraction to her. She was like a rare creature one only sees once in a lifetime, if at all. It was upon this thought that Bruce realized that this must have been part of the reason Robin was so fond of her, her demonic beauty was captivating.

"Yes, I just wanted to ask you why you always cover up such a lovely face?" Bruce said in a flirtatious tone.

Raven raised an eyebrow, and shook her head; she was clearly not going to swoon so easily, as so many women do. "I highly doubt you came all the way from the other side of the country to flirt with a psychiatric patient," the violet haired girl said in a skeptical voice, "unless you're into the sort of thing?" Her voice was cynical and sarcastic, as she rolled her eyes in distaste.

"Well alright maybe that's not quite the reason I came, but I thought it was worth asking…"

"Richard sent you didn't he?" The demonic girl said cutting of confident millionaire.

"So I take it you know who I am?" Bruce said too little surprise. He figured that most of the Titans were aware of his identity, or at least the more observant ones.

"Yes."

"Pretty and clever, no wonder why Dick has taken a liking to you," Bruce said once again with charm. Yet Raven still did not look amused. He couldn't help, but find himself a little off put at her slight hostility.

"Yes because if I wasn't pretty, then my entire life would be absolutely meaningless." she said with a sarcastic irony. "So why did Richard send you here?"

"I'm not sure; I think you're supposed to tell me that." The dark man said in a mysterious tone.

Raven looked at the corner of the room, she wasn't really sure how to respond to his question, nor was she sure if she wanted to. She didn't actually know this man, she only knew of him and as much as she respected him, she wasn't sure if she trusted him. This was mostly because she knew he was the type of person who didn't trust many people; he was no different than her.

"So how is your stay here?" Bruce asked trying to break the awkward silence between them.

_"I'm half sick of shadows."_ Raven replied, looking in his direction with her voice flat and almost emotionless.

"Reflections can be quite cruel," Bruce said to Raven's surprise.

"I didn't peg you as a man of poetry."

"I'm not, but my butler has a love for poetry and philosophy," Bruce said with a smile as Raven shook her head in a bit of irony. "You look disappointed?"

"No, I just remembered that brains and brawn do not go together," she said patronizingly, mostly out of a crude humor that she couldn't help.

Bruce couldn't help, but chuckle at her brashness, it wasn't every day that women didn't fall victim to his charm. "You realize who you're talking to right?"

"Yes I do, but I don't think you know_ who_ I need to talk to," she said in an odd riddle, attempting to see if he was actually listening to her.

"Are you implying, what I think you are implying?" Bruce asked thinking about her words and taking them into consideration.

"Well Richard did send you here now didn't he?"

"You call him Richard?" Bruce asked in a questioning tone, realizing that she never broke away from his formal name.

"Yes, why is that odd?" questioned violet eyed girl, with an intrigued look that reflected off her amethyst orbs.

"Well, the only person who ever really called him that was his mother," Bruce said, descending into his darker persona.

Raven could literally feel the shift in his personality and demeanor. It was unnerving how quickly he could turn that side of himself on. Taking on a very different air about him that was more serious and in-depth, whereas, _"Bruce Wayne"_ was more charming and a bit arrogant. Or at least that was what he let the outside world see. She could tell there was much more to him, but it was well hidden under many layers and a mask. _Well doesn't that sound eerily familiar, _she thought as Bruce was now strangely remind her of Robin. There was something rhythmic in voice that provoked his image in her head. Something small, but recognizable enough that she could hear a resemblance to his. This didn't surprise her, she knew before Robin left Gotham how much he emulated the man and still did. She actually found it interesting to watch, seeing little bits and pieces of him reflecting off of Bruce, especially now that he had settled into his darker role.

"He never told me that," Raven said looking into the man's eyes. "but then again there's a lot I never told him about my mother."

In the depths of his blue eyes, she could see a familiar recognition that she had seen before in the depths of another's.

"Well there are certain things about our mothers that we never share. We keep them to ourselves that why they belong to us and can never be taken away." His words were dark and heavy. Raven wasn't sure how he could keep such a stoic look on his face while speaking such bitter sweet things.

"My mother wasn't really allowed to spend time with me; she was hardly even allowed to touch me," said a nostalgic Raven. "The relationship I had with her was through the pages of the journal she left me."

"I'm sorry to hear that, she has passed hasn't she?" Bruce questioned still in a dark, but gentle tone, knowing that his question was more of a formality. Raven only nodded, the look on her face tugged at Bruce's heartstrings and played a familiar song that possessed a sad melody he knew only too well. "I'm sure Dick has told you about what happened to my parents; I understand how it feels to be alone."

Raven knew that he did understand to a degree, but it was deeper then feeling alone or unjust. She felt cheated and misunderstood as well. Not to mention demonized for her existence and empty for living, yet she couldn't die. Her being was confusing and bled a constant irony that went deeper than just the loss of her mother.

"Do you know what I found out about my mother when I read her journal?" Bruce only shrugged, as Raven the continued. "She's me," Raven said with her voice void of emotion. "She was just as lost as I am and her father controlled every aspect of her life and I know she didn't want that for me, but that's exactly what I got."

"That must be quite the defeat," Bruce said trying to identify with the bewildered girl.

"I know I'm not the only person in the world to ever lose something, but I feel like that's all I ever do" she said resting her chin on her knees, which were now pressed to her chest.

"Then maybe it's time you learn to choose?" the man said, asking the question in a wise manner.

"I did. I made a choice and that's why I'm sitting here," she said with her voice laced in bitter irony, "I could either sink or swim and I chose to sink. I didn't want to be anymore."

"I had to make a decision like that once," Bruce said, his words reminiscent of a darker time, "and I chose to swim, but I do realize that swimming is not as simple as it should be."

Raven closed her eyes and turned her face from him. She couldn't bare the truth he spoke; she could feel his pain and his darkness as it reminded her of not only herself, but of Robin. It was difficult to take in and she felt almost inferior to Bruce. She knew that his life had presented its unfair share of tragedy and heartbreak, but it was the fact that he _had_ and always _would_ choose to swim that caused her to envy him.

"My mother once wrote me a letter and in it she wrote that she would have given me violets, but they all withered away before her father died." Her voice was melancholy and fragile as the words were cruelly poetic and slightly familiar.

"What did she mean by that?"

"That not only in life, but also in death her father still managed to control her. And because of that she was unable to give me all good she wanted to."

Bruce found himself with distaste for the man and could understand how someone could still have power over another, even from the grave. He couldn't help, but think about his own mother. She was a kind woman who spent countless hours working with charities and doing her best to teacher her son what was important in life. He often wondered if he would have turned out different if she were still alive and what that would have meant for Gotham. However the thought was cruel and uncomforting for many reasons.

"You know my mother used to tell me that it's never too late to learn something," he said in a lighter voice, while a light smile crept across his face, "including swimming."

"So then what is the first step?"

"That is a bit more difficult," Bruce trailed off for a moment and took a deep breath, "you have to find the very thing that empties you and confront it, because only then can you accept it." His words were stoic and in italics as though they had their own presences and emphasized themselves. "So Raven, what is it that empties you?"

Raven thought about the question as it presented itself before her. She knew the answer rested at the bottom of her ocean, alongside the bones and remains of the deceased parts of herself. Nothing more than another unpleasant memory she had once laid to rest in hopes of forgetting, but never did.

"How is such a simple question, so difficult to answer?" she said once again play with her violet locks.

"Because questions are simple, they fall within our nature, the answers however do not. They expose who we are and sometimes the truth is more damning then the question."

Bruce was right, she was afraid of the answer. She didn't want to reveal those parts of herself, she had been taught not to. It was actually quite ironic because on the one hand, she was taught to be passive and to not interfere, as well as to not seek vengeance or retaliate. Yet she was told she had to suppress her father's influences as much as she possibly could. And that she had no choice, but to do so or she would enviably lose herself to him. Yet at the same time, she was told that there was still a very good chance that she would lose the battle anyway. So what was the point because it was all part of her destiny?

These thoughts were among the things that consumed her, making her feel as though she truly was only set up to fail and that her life wasn't worth living. She often thought that maybe if she was brought up to fight for what she believed in that maybe it would have made a difference in who she had become? That maybe if she was taught to confront who she was, as appose to suppressing it, if she would have the strength to swim?

She was then pulled out of her thoughts as she heard Bruce began to speak. "I had to accept the fact that Time doesn't stop for any man and that no one can out run it, but most of all. I had to accept that Time will claim_ all of us_." His words were haunting and fulfilled with acceptance. So much so that it was actually spine chilling.

"So how does that make you whole?" Raven asked trying to take the conversation to that deeper level where she could find answers.

"Because I had to make that difficult decision and_ I chose_ to make my Time _count_ while I still could. What I do gives me the strength to keep swimming. That was what I taught Dick, _how to keep swimming_." His words were striking and almost philosophical. Raven then realized that this was the real Bruce Wayne. He was dark and possessed a certain depth that most people weren't capable of and he kept it well hidden under a persona. It was only a privileged few who were allowed to see the real man and it seemed Raven was now among them.

"But what if I'm incapable of swimming?"

"You're only incapable if you chose to be," he said with a shake of his head, "it's not easy, it takes time and there is always a possibility that you may have to sink a few times in the processes, but I think you already know that."

Raven remained silent for a moment and took his words into consideration. She could either sit there and keep making excuses, which she knew Bruce had no interest in. Or she could try to apply his wisdom to herself and at least try to learn something.

"So you're saying I need to attempt to grow my own violets?" Her voice was a bit softer and reflected an innocence that Bruce hadn't heard her speak before.

"Yes, just because they withered away from your mother, doesn't mean the soil isn't capable of creating new ones." The dark man said in an encouraging manner. "What is so important about violets anyway?"

"It's something that Ophelia said to her brother Laertes," said a reminiscent Raven, "she handed out followers, each one representing a different emotion or sin, and violets represented faithfulness, as well as love, innocence, and happiness."

"So your mother felt like she couldn't give you those things because her father took them all way from her," Bruce said now remembering play. It had been years; Alfred had taken him to see _Hamlet_ as a boy and then took the time to explain each character and the symbolic nature of the writing. He remembered him calling the outing a _"lesson in revenge."_

"Yes, she hated him. I know she said she forgave him for what he did to her, but the truth is she only said that because she was trying to move on," the girl said falling back into her melancholy. "She never forgave him and I couldn't either."

"Well maybe that's part of why you're so empty?" Bruce suggested.

"I thought about it that way once, and I tried to bring myself to forgive him. Not just for me, but for the both of us and I couldn't do it," said Raven in a somber voice, "and it's not just because he didn't deserve it. He wouldn't have cared if I had. Just like he never cared how many times he hit his defenseless daughter or how many times he made her scrub her blood out of the carpet." Her voice had now reached a more grave tone as she slipped into a darker place.

Bruce remained silent for a moment before speaking. It was clear by the mixture of bitterness and hatred in her voice that she had no desire to forgive her grandfather and he couldn't blame her for it. He understood that there are some sins that can never be forgiven and he was the last person to tell her otherwise. He could also see that her feelings toward the man were not what haunted her. There was something else much more painful.

"Then what part of you do you feel that you're missing?"

Raven took a moment to think, not of the answer, but whether or not she trusted Bruce enough to tell him something so personal. When she finally came up with the answer she said, "I think in all honestly, I'm missing my mother." Her violet eyes seemed to fall from his glaze in an attempt to hind such a weakness from him.

Bruce wasn't one to get emotional, but a part of him knew that feeling and felt for the girl, but still kept his stoic state. "Well then maybe you should figure out why that is."

"Believe me I wish I knew how, but the more I find of her, the more I become her."

Bruce couldn't really find any words to comfort the young woman and after a few more bantering questions decided to take his leave. He told Raven that he wished her the best and to let him know if there was anything he could do to help her. He then Rose from his chair, but before he could leave the room, he heard the young lady say; "Did you now know _why_ Richard sent you here?"

Bruce turned his head back at her. He couldn't help, but notice that even with such a saddened look upon her face, she was still tragically pretty as he said, "I did Raven, don't you worry about that. And you should really try to smile more; you're too pretty to frown all the time."

"Yes, because apparently that is all I have going on for me these days, I don't have much else felt," she said sarcastically while getting up from her chair.

"That's not true, you're a very smart girl and you're capable of far more than you think." Bruce said, making his way into the hallway.

It was then Dr. Graves, who was waiting a few feet down the hall looked over at him and smiled. "So did you get what you came for Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce looked back at Raven and said with a confident look, "Yes I did, thank you doctor." He then reached out his hand to shack the doctor's and continued; "now Dr. Graves, I'm sure you're going to take great care of Ms. Roth?"

"Yes, to the best of my ability." Dr. Graves replied, and shook Bruce's hand.

"Well then I should be on my way. Thank you again Doctor and Raven, good luck with your violets," he said then turned walked down the hallway, leaving Raven speechless.

Once he reached the elevator and the doors had closed behind him, he once again reached for his phone and dialed a number. He patiently waited while a dial tone filled his ear until a voice could be heard at the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Yes, Dr. Quinzel? It's Bruce Wayne, the man who you ran into from earlier. I was wondering if I could buy you that drink?"

_**A/N:LOL I had to! Only because it's for plot and I just want to point out that this is before she actually becomes Harlequin, so this is pre Joker. But any way, I was trying to play with the characters here, mostly Bruce. Because I wanted to show the difference between the outer persona vs. the underling, inner persona. Because Bruce basically has two different personalities, which is a big part of the Batman comics and Bruce represents the perfect balance between the two personalities. Whereas other characters such as Joker and Two-Face represent the more extremes between their alter egos. So I hope I conveyed that in in this chapter, please let me know and Review! Thanks for reading my loves!**_


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